Man's Best Friend

Not all dog encounters, of course, are of the negative sort. One week while I was still a rank rookie I was joined in my rounds in Bronte west of the creek by a large black Lab. This dog didn’t just follow me around, he’d obviously made this round before and led me around the route, fending off other dogs and leading me unfailingly to the correct door for every mailbox and slot in the area.

Another small lap dog named Cuddles walked a considerable distance from her home each morning to meet her female letter carrier on Rebecca St. just opposite the YMCA. She knew her companion’s schedule and was almost always on time or waiting. She then accompanied the letter carrier on her rounds until they reached the dog’s home. Being surveilled by one’s supervisor is one thing, but his dog?

In East-end Oakville Tux, the Border collie took such a liking to her mailman that she insisted on being let out daily to follow him on his rounds. Hung in the relay box nearest her house was her leash. Tux was quite discerning in her tastes however; if her friend was off she made it quite clear to his replacement that she didn’t approve of her buddy being kept from her.

Dogs are as varied in their responses as the people who own them. On Ingledene Crescent in Falgarwood in the 70s I met Josephine the Basset hound. The first of her breed I’d ever encountered she looked for all the world like a gigantic sausage bouncing up and down in the middle as she chased me up and down the street. Upon finally meeting up with her mistress I felt compelled to ask, “Why Josephine?” “Oh, that’s easy,” was the laughing response, “Napoleon lived next door when we were in Montreal!”