Dog's Best Friend

Making friend’s with a customer’s dog if repeated encounters are likely is just a matter of survival and the path of least resistance—liking dogs just doesn’t enter into it.  One is trained to shake a paw, throw a ball, scratch an ear, rub a tummy, and untangle a lead— by the dog, of course.  Tolerating the licking of hands, face, and, in the case of one Welch Corgi getting my earlobes nibbled—is all part of “love me; love my dog.”  Learning to keep one’s mouth closed during close encounters is wise—doggy breath is notorious and you never know what that tongue was last washing—some dogs seem to be French kissers. 

 

When you get to know a dog you also seem to acquire certain responsibilities.  On my first route a black border collie used to jump an 8 ft. fence to come investigate, then jump back.  Not all dogs with such abilities have the same good sense.  I’ve known many dogs that needed to be chained in their own backyards for their own safety.  One such rather large dog was owned by a couple who would occasionally decide it was too cold to go out in their jimmies to let the dog do his doggie best.  On more than one occasion I met him up to half a mile from home.  Returning him was often a major detour and more than once my knock on the door got the owners out of bed, “Did you lose something?”

 

One extremely cold February afternoon I encountered a customer’s newly acquired puppy violently shivering just over the fence.  I picked him up and went to the door and passed him to his youthful owner with the appropriate admonition. 

 

It’s remarkable how many dogs decide to follow the mailman and then don’t have the sense to go home, or even seem to lack a sense of where home is.  Often the easiest path is to open the gate and put Rover in his own backyard.  Being certain of identity is important here or dramatic theatrics could ensue.  I’m not aware that I’ve ever committed such as error but I know I’ve retrieved garbage cans from the middle of major arterial streets and returned them to the wrong house—they usually reappear next week with a house number prominently emblazoned on their sides.