In 1971 I acquired a full-grown collie bitch I named Loretta Maude (mod) after the Beatle's song. She was a nice dog and a neighbour's big, yellow dog would break his chain and come over to play with her. The neighbour was using this big dog to guard his large patch of marijuana, perhaps, or he was just a jerk, but when LM was hit by a car and died I promptly went and stole the yellow dog and named him Aurens. He was possibly the best dog I ever had: intelligent, protective, handsome. However, this post isn't about good dogs, it's about
The Worst Dog Ever
My little sister saw a tiny, fluffy puppy in a shop, and nothing would do but that she had to take it home. We'd never in our lives had a dog from a shop. The attendant said the puppy had been dumped there by someone who'd snuck into the pet department to rid himself of an unwanted litter so this wasn't a purebred or a puppy-mill dog, but a cast-off underdog, so it went home with us.
Every few weeks or months Becky, as she was called by my sister, would change appearance entirely, as though she were constantly being remade from a grab-bag of assorted yet unrelated dog parts. As a teenaged dog her underlying conformation revealed itself: very lanky and skinny, with an exceedingly long tail. Then her fur was sleek and her long tail covered with short hair except for a bizarre fringe only about two hairs deep that was at least two inches long. Later her coat became more curly and less sleek and her tail bore a thick, very thick, fringe. She was brown and about 24" at the withers.
You can tame a wolf but you can do nothing with a coyote, and it was my belief that Becky was half coyote. She regarded humans as something not part of her world. You could call, 'Becky!' until hoarse but she would never come - it wasn't that she didn't know what you wanted, just that she wouldn't. IF you had food and IF she were hungry and IF she wanted to then maybe she'd come. Or maybe she wouldn't. Even the other dogs were annoyed by her.
The Worst Dog Ever
My little sister saw a tiny, fluffy puppy in a shop, and nothing would do but that she had to take it home. We'd never in our lives had a dog from a shop. The attendant said the puppy had been dumped there by someone who'd snuck into the pet department to rid himself of an unwanted litter so this wasn't a purebred or a puppy-mill dog, but a cast-off underdog, so it went home with us.
Every few weeks or months Becky, as she was called by my sister, would change appearance entirely, as though she were constantly being remade from a grab-bag of assorted yet unrelated dog parts. As a teenaged dog her underlying conformation revealed itself: very lanky and skinny, with an exceedingly long tail. Then her fur was sleek and her long tail covered with short hair except for a bizarre fringe only about two hairs deep that was at least two inches long. Later her coat became more curly and less sleek and her tail bore a thick, very thick, fringe. She was brown and about 24" at the withers.
You can tame a wolf but you can do nothing with a coyote, and it was my belief that Becky was half coyote. She regarded humans as something not part of her world. You could call, 'Becky!' until hoarse but she would never come - it wasn't that she didn't know what you wanted, just that she wouldn't. IF you had food and IF she were hungry and IF she wanted to then maybe she'd come. Or maybe she wouldn't. Even the other dogs were annoyed by her.
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- 11:57 AM
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