Dell on Seniors & Dogs: Naming the Puppy

My dogs are still hurting: my feet, that is. My UK second cousin would say, "My dogs are barking!"

Having those dogs on my mind, naturally got me thinking about the many great dogs I've known. Seniors often decide to give up keeping a dog once they stop driving. Who is going to want hair all over their car when you have to take the dog somewhere? What if you have to be hospitalized? What if you die? Who will take over the pet's care? My thought on that subject is this: if you cannot manage to keep a pet, make sure you have at least one you are seriously attached to among your friends or family. There is nothing like a dog to make a human a better person.

My grand-daughter, Shelley, is my wheels these days and her dog is as welcome as she is, here at camp. When Shelley first showed up with her dog it was just six weeks old, solid black with a tiny white star on the chest. He was the product of a pure lab bitch caught, as my mother would have said,  before her spaying date with the vet. This inexperienced lab bitch had nine pups, its owner told Shelley the day after they were born.

"Is there a runt?" Shelley had asked.

Shelley is so much like my sister Elaine: she's got this soft spot for the underdog. No matter what's up for grabs, whatever is left, after everyone's had their pick...why, that will be the very thing Shelley will pick right off the git go. And, yes, there was a runt: being hand fed by the owner's daughter. The lab bitch had plenty enough teats and milk. The problem was the stronger pups wouldn't let this one at mother's milk.

Now, I'll take a step back here and explain something about Shelley's childhood and dogs. Her mother [gone...meaning dead...nine years ago] kept dogs: just a few mind you, Samoyeds. The thing is, the part of Shelley's mother that was broken [check out my post - Dell on Family] played out with Shelley's mother putting all her focus into those dogs, instead of young Shelley. Amazingly, my grand-daughter recognized her mother's relationship with animals was not normal.

My grand-daughter grew up around the wilderness. Shelley had no problem watching me butcher a moose or clean a partridge. Pets were different: they depended on you to survive and dogs lived to please their owner. Shelley's mother's relationship with her Samoyeds was different. Nonetheless, Shelley has a healthy relationship with animals. From observing her mother's approach to training, punishment, Shelley knew she didn't want to train the pup she planned to adopt, using her mother's methods.

Even before she got her own pup, Shelley was so excited the time Oprah had Tamar Geller on her show. Shelley went out and bought the book The Loving Dog, and then the DVD, too.

Shelley was keen to show me the pup after she picked it up. She still hadn't decided on a name for it, but she knew the criteria: something gender neutral, one syllable, strong [to make up for size, I guess].

I think it would have been about eight weeks old, a good deal smaller than a normal lab pup, when Shelley came by my town place one day to show him off. She asked if I wanted to join her doing some animal therapy up at the seniors' home. Doc Simpson had given the pup a clean bill of health and the required vaccinations, so we were good to go.

There were oohs and aahs from the residents when we set the pup amongst the walkers and wheelchairs. It's little red collar and tags jingled as it went from person to person, getting acquainted.

One very elderly gentleman, heartier than the majority there, declared, "That is one fine looking dorg you've got there." and proceeded to remark, it's a tad on the puny side, and then talked about the dorgs he'd known, gave advice on raising dorgs, asked if she had a name for this here dorg of yours, while Shelley grinned from ear to ear, smothering her laughter, lest he think she was laughing at his speech. Nothing was said until we got back to her truck and had the pup secured in the travel carrier; then we peered inside at the pup and together chorused: "Good Dorg!"

Tamar Geller's training relies on love to motivate your dog. If there's anyone who should know how to get that right, it'll be my grand-daughter, Shelley.

I'm off for a bite to eat and then a nap. I think yesterday's run to the clinic in the rain is still taking it's toll.