Who is the owner and who is the pet?

My dog is a sorry excuse for a dog. If there were a licensing agency for dogs to call themselves dogs, his would be revoked. However, the truth is, we are sorry excuses for owners. We baby and coddle our dog to the point that we have effectively convinced him he is not a dog. So ultimately, we are to blame. We have trained our dog to not be a dog.


To give you some background I bought this dog shortly after my wife and I got engaged. We didn’t want to jump into naming him until we got to know his personality, how he looked and how he acted so that we could find a name that best suited him. Ultimately, we landed on the name “Tucker”.

Since we did not have children at that point in our relationship, Tucker was that child. We took him everywhere, we talked to him, and he slept in the bed with us. Then one day, our son arrived. This meant that Tucker was going to be removed as our only child. In fact, not only did he lose the status of “only child”, but it quickly became apparent to us that in fact, he was not a child at all, but a family pet. We quickly adjusted our lives to treat our son like a child and Tucker like the family dog. Unfortunately, Tucker did not receive that memo. Looking back on the situation, I remember having that conversation with Tucker, but I noticed a far-away gaze in his eyes, almost as if he was ignoring me. Now, four years later, I recognize that he wasn’t ignoring me, he heard me loud and clear, he was simply saying, without words, “Thanks, but no.”

The good news is that Tucker didn’t decide to punish our children for this sudden slide down the family hierarchy. He had a more effective and well-thought out strategy, he became more needy. It wasn’t long after this that Tucker developed allergies. “A dog with allergies?” you may be asking yourself. Well, I too was suspicious, so I asked our vet if it was possible. Yes, says our vet, it’s actually more common than you might think. In the old days, they’d laugh at such silly nonsense. But what do we do? I give Tucker allergy medicine twice a day. I’d say he is pathetic, but I think I am the pathetic one. I don’t give my children medicine twice a day.

Tucker has employed other, more devious and distracting methods of getting our attention. Like recently, he started getting cold at night. “A dog getting cold at night?” you might be asking yourself. Well, I asked myself the same thing, but the vet once again assured me that this too is not that uncommon (is it possible that the vets are in on this little conspiracy?) So, we went out and bought him a pajama top. Yes, I own this humiliating act. But wait, it gets worse. Recently, he became so cold he could not stop shivering until we got him underneath the comforter with us. I awoke the next morning, lying nose to nose with our family dog. He was laying there, head on the pillow, comforter tucked snugly around his torso, eyes looking drowsily into mine. Pathetic.

Well, I am on to these animals. My belief is that these canines are actually intentionally playing on our sympathy and therefore getting our attention by acting needy. So next time you are tempted to read them a bedtime story, or leave the television on while you are out for the day, don’t be fooled, the conspiracy is upon us. I’d tell you more, but Tucker needs his teeth brushed.

Don't Insult your Dog, Make the "Dog Days of Summer" Count - Go Vote!

The end of summer is growing near, the temperatures are rising, Election Day is upon us, and the beginning of the school year is fast approaching – it is officially the “Dog Days of Summer”. That term, the “Dog Days of Summer”, got me thinking about two seemingly unrelated topics: 1.) My dog, Tucker; and 2.) Election Day. Before I use my intellectual depth and literary talents (please stifle your laughter) to “WOW” you by skillfully tying these topics together, let me take this opportunity to give you some totally useless trivia information - the term, “Dog Days of Summer” actually comes from the ancient belief that Sirius, also called the Dog Star, was somehow responsible for the hot weather typically present in the time period between July and September. Impressed? Well, buckle up and get ready, because we are about to take a random trip into the deranged and disconnected mind of this author.


Growing up, I always believed the term; “Dog Days of Summer” was really alluding to the fact that it was so hot that dogs, who wear a natural coat of fur, must be incredibly uncomfortable in these long days of unbearable heat and high humidity. Tucker, our family dog, has never been much of an outside dog. He prefers the luxury of down comforters, plush pillows, and air-conditioning over the oppressive humidity and pollen-filled air that causes him to pant and itch with allergies. Yes, my dog is a sorry excuse for a dog and would probably lose his membership in the local canine union if they knew about his human-like tendencies and behaviors, but I digress.

Because of this heat and humidity that seems to cause what can only be described as an allergic reaction in my dog, he doesn’t get out much. However, one recent morning I took him to run some errands and while I was out, I drove by one of our early voting precincts. I considered running in to participate in the great American privilege of voting when I remembered I had Tucker with me and he is probably not a welcome visitor to our local courthouse. I continued on to vote another day.

While I drove home past the infinite number of campaign signs, I considered the great American tradition of voting and how unfair it seems that our pets are so harshly discriminated against in not being able to participate. It may be the fact they are subject to our dictatorial-style of ownership, but more likely it is because of their small brains having the inability to make thoughtful decisions at such a high level. I mean, really, how many times can I fake throw the tennis ball before my dog figures out that it is still in my hand, right? To take it a step further down Discriminatory Road, at one time, all across this great land, the position of Dog Catcher was on the local ballots. I started thinking about how that decision was made and imagined the conversation, “Mr. Mayor, we’ve got a stray dog problem, how can you solve it?”

“I think we need someone to catch some of these dogs.”

“Who do you think could do that Mr. Mayor?”

“I think this is too big of a position for any one person to decide, I say we leave this important decision to the people. Put it on the ballot!”

Really? At some point in time we thought this decision was too political to be appointed and we therefore made it an elected position? Can you imagine the heated debates this caused in a community? I can see the campaign slogans now, “Vote Smith for Dog Catcher. He’ll make Strays Squat and Pee in Fear!”

The fact is the dog catcher is no longer on the ballot. Therefore, Tucker supports your participation in the electoral during the “Dog Days of Summer.” He reminds you to not insult your pet by not participating in this wonderful privilege that they can’t share in. However, he quickly points out that even if he can’t vote, he does get to sleep in a plush bed with air conditioning all day long. Pulled it all together neatly didn’t I, how do you like them apples?

What the Dog Hears

Do dogs understand us? Sometimes it seems like dogs fully and completely understand everything we are trying to communicate and at other times, it seems like they know nothing. The truth probably falls somewhere in between and we (as humans and owner) often completely misunderstand this. I find myself often talking to my dog Tucker. He is a wonderful listener, he never interupts and seems to give me his full attention. He gives me the whimsical looks, the tilted head (which I interpret as a question), and raised ears (which I define as the same as a raised eyebrow in a person). Nonetheless, my understanding is completely wrong. Tucker doesn't understand most all of my words (although I believe at this point he has a thorough understanding of "NO!" and "GET DOWN!" and "Want to go outside?"). The truth is dogs communicate with body language. They understand sucken shoulders, fast paced walks, tones of voice, and even increased heart rates and breathing. Now you may be saying, "My dog ignores me when I am stressed out, I thought you said he can understand that?" Well, just like humans, dogs can become accustomed to just about anything. If you yell at a dog all the time, it will become a normal part of their day. If you are stressed all the time, they won't bat an eye at that behavior because it has become normalized. If you are depressed all the time, they feel that is your normal state and therefore may show no interest in that behavior. Recent research shows that we can even diminish a dogs sense of smell if they are not required to use it (which is why last summer a rabbit was able to essentially sneak up on my dog and get about three feet from him without him noticing - ultimately scaring him to half to death).
So why do I share this? I am trying to speak for the dogs who have no one to speak for them. They do understand us, but not in the way we think they do. They don't understand words, they understand our actions (many times it is the most subtle or simple actions). The Dog Whisperer has based his entire training regiment on this philosophy with great success. That is why he says he doesn't train dogs, he trains people. What he means is that he is training them to "speak" the dog language. So next time you are having a conversation with your dog, remember they are "hearing" your body language, not your words. But who am I and what do I know, I could be completely wrong. When I get home I'll ask Tucker what he thinks.

Where is Baby Jesus, maybe Tucker ate him?

My wife was determined to teach our children the true meaning of Christmas this holiday season. She was going to do so by using the nativity scene we were given as a gift by her parents a few years ago. My children watched in anxious anticipation, as she carefully unpacked each piece of the ceramic nativity scene. First the stables, then the manger, followed by the animals and the wise men. Finally, she started getting to the bottom of the box, Joseph and Mary made their appearance and my son patiently waited, finally asking, “Where is Baby Jesus?”
“I don’t know,” answered my wife.
“I don’t see him anywhere! Maybe Tucker ate him,” my son replied.
Tucker, as many of you know, is the trouble-ridden family dog. Just like many families, he is also a key member of our family. However, this one statement from my son gives you an idea of some of the trouble he has caused in our household. I bought Tucker for my wife as an engagement gift six years ago. He was an adorably cute, five pound Cocker Spaniel from South Georgia. He was as sweet as could be. Over the years, we have served as “foster” owners for many dogs – a revolving door of big dogs and small dogs, cute dogs and not-so-cute dogs; but throughout, Tucker has remained steady. I would have preferred loyal and obedient, but I guess steady will have to do.
Once the entire Nativity scene was laid out and on display, my son decided to make a slide out of the roof of the stable for the characters, because you know what would have really livened up that first Christmas . . . a slide for Baby Jesus! I can see it now, the wise men arrive after traveling great distances with gifts of Gold, Frankincense, and Myrrh, and a slide for our Lord and Savior!
In the meantime, my daughter is now at the age where she is walking, climbing, and essentially getting into everything within her reach. This regularly results in pictures, ornaments, and often drinks and food scattered around the living room floor (Tucker seems to enjoy the food and drink on the floor and ultimately makes quite a good vacuum in just such occasions). All in all, this ultimately leaves our home looking as if a small tornado (or the Tasmanian Devil) just wiped through our living room.
The point is that every family has its quirks (my family is no exception – in fact, it’s probably the model), but rather than allowing those quirks to become a point of frustration, it is a wonderful opportunity to embrace the uniqueness that is your family. This holiday season; celebrate the quirks with your family. That’s what makes them yours!

Two types of people on the bike

One of the greatest hazards when riding your bike on the back roads of Bradley County (or any other community for that matter), is the unfenced, unleashed, and otherwise unconfined dogs. I have seen all too often my friends and riding partners go down in a heap after a dog runs under their tires. I have been fortunate, while I have had many close calls, I have yet to be taken down by a canine friend. In fact, on my "old faithful" ride to and from Red Clay State Park, I have essentially mapped the ride by the dogs I'll encounter. There is the crazy German Shepard I have called the Yard Nazi - that family must have a invisible fence because he will run to the edge of the road and run tight circles until I am out of sight (somewhat humorous). There is Duke II, because he is very friendly and likes to run alongside of me, and looks just like my old dog Duke. There is Rocco II, a little Terrier Terror that makes every effort to run between my tires and the culprit of my closest calls (I now ride quiet on the approach and make a sprint attack past the house, much like the group finishes at the Tour de France - except it is only one fat guy on a bike and a little 20 lb. dog chasing him through the back roads of SE Tennessee). There is Gramps, an old lab mix that only raises his head to bark, but never gets off the porch, and Doggy Bolt, an incredible sprinter for short distances who otherwise has no endurance. There have been many other dogs on this route come and go over the years (I am fearful that the "go" was a sad ending created by a vehicle larger than a bike).
Now I have ridden with many people in this community and there are generally two ways to deal with the dogs - love and contempt. I am not judging either, but it seems to be a common theme. Those that deal with love, either try and sneak by in an effort not to disturb the dog, bring doggy bones to toss to the dog during the chase (hoping it will be a distraction), or actually enjoying talking and playing chase with the dogs. I tend to fall into this category. The other approach is contempt. I have seen this play out with yelling, threatening, and most recently, many riders are carrying a form of pepper spray to hit the dogs with during the chase. While the spray usually works, I have also seen the rider in the draft become a "collateral damage" victim of the spray.
I am not judging or suggesting either is right or wrong, just pointing out an interesting pattern I've noticed, much like the preferences people have of which way their toilet paper rolls open (many like the toilet paper to roll over the top, others prefer it coming out the bottom). What does all this say? What does it mean? Probably nothing, but I am not smart enough to be the judge, I simply write it down for you to ponder. Ride safe and don't let Rocco II get the jump on you!