Blondie, Portrait of a Street Dog

We first met Blondie in 2007 when she was around a year old. She remained a street dog, until early 2012. She is my least trained dog. When Kirt was in the hospital I left her in the house overnight without having an accident. That’s due to her innate cleanlinesng.

Blondie's response when yelled at or threatened, varies if she knows the person but to do what I ask her is a concept that didn’t always compute with her. To this day I can ask her to sit for a treat and she may look at me like what??? The other three sit ws, not any trainiagging tails knowing something good is coming their way, but Blondie is my du-huh kid. She’s been known to have brain freezes.

One day I walked her across Delgado Community College Campus across from City Park. In the late afternoon the trees were tossing some shade across the campus. I was lost in thought. Blondie sniffed every tree and bush. We were walking fairly fast when suddenly she stopped with her nose under a bush along one of the buildings. Under the bush lay a big female Muscovy just as shocked to see her beak to nose. Blondie had a brain freeze that gave me enough time to get her away before went ballistic barking and lunging at the bird. She’s had brain freezes when confronted with new stimuli. If it’s in her repertoire, she’s got it covered.

During her young life on the country road where she was born, Blondie bullied her way into what she wanted. She wasn't always loyal to the resident street dog, who lived here before she came.   She bit hard for what she could get.

After weeks of watching her keep a young female away from food, I watched her invite the submissive female to eat. I thrilled me to see that exchange. In my early years on the island, I observed more and influenced less. After years of teaching dog behavior and obedience I've learned much more about dogs by hanging with the satos.

Blondie still chases new dogs away. If they don’t go, she bites harder. Earlier this year she fought an English Bull Terrier, that didn't want to go away. On the hill in the thick woods and grass I couldn't get to them. Chi and the boys came to me. I put them in the house, while I tried to get Blondie. The battle raged on until finally Blondie came to me bloody and tired.

She allows the boys, Lucky and Robert Redford, to go to the food bowl before her if it has the usual kibble, but when I pour leftovers over it, she’s the old Blondie first at the dish. Lately, she’s looking a bit past her prime. I've come to love and admire my big blonde girl for who she is.

Changing Patterns

     The dogs have settled into a comfortable pattern of early morning runs up the hill to investigate everything that set foot on the road during the night. Dogs dumped seek food and water after they calm down and start to get really hungry. They go for miles until they find a source of food and water. These days of no rain make it more difficult for the dogs than lack of food. There’s a break in the water main uphill from us, so I think more strays are making their way to our road.

     The dogs have been spending their nights in the house. They bark when dogs go down the road, but I’ve gotten tired of worrying about the fights they get into overnight, when dogs seem to travel around more.

     I’ve been practicing recalls with the boys. Robert Redford shows his golden personality by hauling butt up the hill as fast as he can. Lucky sometimes gets involved in barking and bouncing, so he doesn’t hear the first time. When he hears or sees Red running up, he comes running.

     Blondie gets so serious about protecting her turf that she’s the last to come. Chi-Ping often sees barking activity in the street as an opportunity to come in the house. She’s heading home when I come out to call. I wouldn’t be surprised if she started shit to get to come in.

     Over the years of watching dogs here things seem to have changed in that there once was a steady group of dogs living in the neighborhood. I saw the same dogs for a few years, and now, the dogs change frequently.

     I feed dogs I see on the road unless they look well fed. That happens dogs running the road are sometimes, not too often, well nourished. Some dogs I’ve seen in the same area for months or years. I have very few old friends anymore. I don’t know what that means.  

    

Back Home on Sato Hill

Since my return from New Orleans, Robert Redford, Lucky, Blondie and Chi-Ping have claimed Sato Hill as their home. What's different about now is that Blondie and Chi know that they belong with me and not my neighbor, who acquired a cute little dog that looks like Toto from the Wizard of Oz. 
Lucky and Robert Redford are in the same teenage stage my neighbor boy is and that's grown up one minute and the next is totally puppy brains. 
Blondie spends time at the neighbor's when her grandkids are visiting. She comes when I call her. That's new. My favorite change is that Blondie trusts me when we're doing something that causes her to be unsure. I say, "Good dog." and Blondie knows I won't ask her to do anything she can't. 
Chi-Ping tries to outsmart me. Why do you want me to do that? What's really going on, Mom? I can see the look in her eyes as she stands there wagging her tail with her mouth hanging open. 
Smoki, my dear old kitty has lost some of his spunk, but he talks to me, telling me what he wants just as always. 
It's good to be home with the kidz.

Dog Fighting

The verity of your hilarity is lost when dogs fight in pits

Euthanize animals chewed to bits

By what method can we see with clarity

Our relationship with others’ pain and suffering is sick

When every Sunday we worship Michael Vick

Pro quarter back sublime

Who murdered dogs in their prime

Their only crime failure to exterminate an opponent

Is this the way we roll now

Dog and cock fighters take a bow

Your mothers must be so proud 

Neanderthal, civilized man

Who knows what side of the line each will stand

The dissolution of our race

Shown in the boy’s face

As he smiled with glee

At what happened to the puppy

The bait dog lay writhing, dying

What Can I Do?

Heads of scrawny dogs pop up in the weeds along the road. They recognize the sound of my engine. Low held tails wag furiously, while waiting for the food bin lid to pop. Dogs with disease, cuts and injuries I can’t attend to, wolf down kibble while I pour the water. Few will chase the car. It breaks my heart to see them in the rear view mirror wanting more kindness than I can give.

The hardest days are those I see old friends coming to the car, when I have no more food. The look of disappointment when I drive on by haunts me until I go back with more, only to find them not there. Wondering their fate until I see them again burdens me more than you can imagine.

Darla, the puppy abandoned along the road in a bucket, plays happily in my driveway with black coat shimmering in the sun. Lucky and Robert Redford, now almost yearlings patrol the perimeter of their property with assurance they’ll defend this house from all comers. Healthy and well fed; their world would be doggie bliss if they just got more petting.

Blondie and Chi-Ping were adopted by me because neighbors wanted them gone, but now these same folk put out food and show me with pride where they put rugs for my dog’s comfort; go figure. I say, “Please don’t feed the dogs in the road; it pulls them away from my house and it’s dangerous.” They feed and even sometimes water just off the road. The dogs sometimes check there before eating their kibble. This place confounds me to say the least.

Darla had to be kept in the house, at six and seven weeks of age to keep her out of the street until she could process things like danger. Puppy road kill, a common cause of death happens to a fair percentage of young. She now looks both ways before stepping into the street.

Chi-Ping sleeps in my bed with Smoki, the cat. Blondie spends her time at the neighbor’s who said she wanted her gone. Love can be blind in more than one species.

Today I’m leaving; my rescues will stay at my friend’s shelter, even the cat. My heart is broken, my life shattered. In a week I’ll be home with my aunt, where I can be loved and cared for; it’s time for me. It has to be.