L.A. Observations 6: Me, The Dog Lover

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Dogs are, according to Wikipedia, domesticated forms of the wolf. Did you know that they inherited complex behaviors and social hierarchy from their wolf ancestors? And they communicate non-verbally. Did you know that? Like wolves, dogs are pack animals exhibiting a complex set of behaviors related to determining where a dog is positioned within their social hierarchy. Socially, they’re as sophisticated as people are.

I confess: I’m a dog lover. Growing up on Dandridge Avenue in Knoxville, Tennessee, I had, at one time, 5 dogs and 3 cats. I still have pictures of my dogs and I’ve framed them and put them on one of my walls along with other friends and family.

I live on a street where there are a lot of dogs. For instance, my new neighbors across from me live with Ama and Blue, two Great Danes. Blue is white and Ama is black. They’re puppies—very beautiful, big, big puppies—with very loud barks and mournful howls. Then to my left and one house down, there’s another new neighbor who walks her five white Shih tzus everyday. There’s adorable. And in her same triplex, there’s a man who walks his black and brown miniature Doberman every day. I’d never seen a “miniature” Doberman before.

Most days, I walk my next door neighbor’s dogs. The neighborhood knows me because I do. When I walk, I wave to whoever is sitting out or ambling about. As for the dogs, I fell in love with them and since I walk anyway, I asked if I could walk them. My neighbor was more than happy to have me do it. I nicknamed her dogs The Honeys: Boo (whose name is Guy) and Poo (whose name is Sybil). They’re both found dogs—black with white markings though they’re not related. He looks like he’s mostly Labrador Retriever and she’s in the Terrier family, part Whippet, which is a Greyhound breed. When they’re at home, they look out the window to keep the neighborhood “secure.” If somebody strange stops too near my apartment, they do the crazy sounding “Some stranger is out here that we don’t know” bark. That tells me to go see who or what is lurking outside.

I love my Honeys. Such interesting personalities. In the pictures above, Boo is the one with the blue toy in his mouth and Poo is stretched out on my red rug.

Poo is a firebrand—independent, fierce-hearted, and stubborn. When she was young, just a little cutie pie, she could run like the wind. The first time I saw her do it was at our walking/hiking park between La Cienega and La Brea. I let her loose on a huge green hollow—Janice’s Green Valley, it’s called—to run off leash. And run she did. She astonished me. I’d never seen anything like it. It was like watching a racehorse; her feet hardly touched the ground, all four legs pumping, then leaping to stretch straight out; she went airborne with her legs pumping, leaping, and stretching as if she was being held up by invisible wind currents. I’ll never forget the sight of her… exploding with joy just to be running free like the wind. I thought I’d never get her back, she’d run so far, so fast, but she came when I called her. Turned right away and came back, she ran straight at me as I knelt on the grass with my arms out, and leaped up into my chest.

Now, Boo was a different story. He looks scary to some, but he’s a gentle, playful rascal. When I first began walking Boo, several years ago, he slipped out of his chain. To be truthful, I didn’t put it on correctly. It took him a few seconds to realize he was free as a bird… and then he flew with me chasing behind him yelling for him to Stop! And screaming at him to: Come back here, Boo! He had me chasing him for 45 minutes as he explored new streets and other people’s back yards. One guy saw Boo dash into his back yard which was full of bushes and hiding places. We tried to lure him out, to trap him, to trick him. Nothing worked. Boo finally took off and the guy hollered “Good luck!” as I ran behind, looking like a crazy woman. Finally, having had his jolly fun for the day Boo decided to let me catch him. I bitched at him all the way home. As we trudged back, me fussing, he looked up at me with those big eyes as if to say: Don’t be mad. I’m did what comes naturally.

Yes, The Honeys are a pair. Both of them are very territorial. They didn’t like it when a pair of Chihuahuas, Mimi and Joy, came to live upstairs, over their heads. Although there’s a big back yard, large enough for all four of them. Boo and Poo wouldn’t hear of it. They threw a hissy fit, so now the Chihuahuas get walked twice a day, instead of coming out into the back yard. The white one is aggressive, if you can picture a frail-looking dog bow-wowing in a tiny voice as being aggressive. She tries to be the tough one; I’ll give her that. By contrast, her tan companion is very shy. She keeps creeping up to me as if she’s going to let me pet her this time. Then she chickens out and runs.

I see a lot of cats roaming around and scooting out of sight if there are dogs about, but the only neighbor that has a cat is David. Her name is Blue, too. She’s white with blue eyes. He puts her on a leash and lets her preen and sun herself outside in the yeard as if she’s the queen of hearts. I think she’s the queen of his heart.

I like pets. I wish I could have a pet but my apartment doesn’t allow them. It distresses me to no end when people don’t take care of theirs, or worse let them loose to live or die on the streets. My minister once pointed out that “dog” spelled backwards became the word, “god.” He said dogs love us unconditionally (no matter what we do to them), just as God does, and that they deserved to be loved back the same way.

I couldn’t agree more.