In The Beginning....

It is debatable as to whether a dog lover is born or made. Personally, I think it goes far beyond either argument.

I don't remember not loving dogs. My first toy was a stuffed terrier-like dog. When the fur rubbed off, my mother and grandmother, neither having the first clue about the 2 year old they were dealing with, bought another one, took the original and put it in the trash. I started screaming and didn't stop until the new dog was gone and the old one rescued from the trash can. I still have that toy. Maybe not as stuffed, but I still have it in the attic.

The first live dog I had was named Duke. He was a collie mix and lived in a house in the back yard. He liked me and my mother and was reasonably well behaved, but food aggressive.

In those days there was little or no formal training of pet dogs in the area. Most were allowed to run loose, hence Duke's background. My mother did not think dogs or other animals should free run of the community so Duke was kept in our large fenced yard.

One day the neighbor boy was throwing stones at Duke. I was very upset and tried to make him leave. When he laughed and continued, I covered Duke with my body, being hit several times.

And Aunt who lived near by saw it and rather then stopping the boy accused me of holding Duke so the boy could throw stones at him. In an instant I learned that adults cannot be trusted to understand anything. That has stuck with me. They still don't.

Duke eventually was take away after a neighbor came in the yard and took his food. He promptly bit said neighbor. My mother would not chance another bite and the lack of trainers and animal behaviorists left only one avenue. I have not forgotten.

The next dog came several years later. Tinkerbell was to be a miniature dachshund. These were the days when the mini was in the process of being developed. She grew into a lovely red standard dachshund.

This dog's attitude and behavior was to shape things to come.

Trainers were still unheard of in our area, but I'd seen pictures of children walking their dogs happily
down a tree lined street, skipping along with the dog bouncing beside them on a loose lead.

We bought a lovely lead and collar for Tink and out the door we went. The dog promptly turned to me and said, "Ok, kid. The lead is mine and I'll take you where I want to go and you will like it or no walking." And so it went.