Shakespeare's daily doggerel*

*Bad poetry.
Daily-ness may vary. Shakespeare sometimes eats his poems.

Under the gray snow,
'Neath a large mound,
A bone lost in August,
I've suddenly found.

Hairy and large,
With grizzly-sized paws,
I've awaited your notice,
Now it's time to use claws.

Snow has blanketed the yard,
the dirt, the weeds, the tree.
This is making my life hard.
Where can I go to pee?

I have a favorite habit,
I chase the desert rabbit.
Though it has fears,
And a burden of ears,
I'm never able to grab it.

My feeding dish of plastic,
Is now an empty hole.
If it remains foodless,
I'll simply eat the bowl.

Touching story from war zone

You may have heard about the good-hearted U.S. soldier who didn't get to come home from Iraq, and the homeless dogs he adopted who did.

Army Sgt. Peter Neesley, from Michigan, had a lifetime habit of taking in strays. So when he found a homeless black Labrador mix bitch and her pup while he was patrolling a street in Baghdad, he couldn't resist taking her in.

He and his friends built a doghouse for Mama, the female, and her pup, Boris.

Neesley had written his family about his hope to bring the dogs home with him when he returned to the U.S. in July. But on Christmas morning, Neesley's family found out he had died in his sleep. The family has requested an autopsy.

Neesley's family believed if they could bring the dogs here, they'd have something Peter cared about to hold onto. The plan hits snags, but the family was helped in its efforts by the Utah-based Best Friends Animal Society, Gryphon Holdings LLC, an American-owned airline with service in Iraq, and a veterinarian with the Iraqi Society for Animals who stuck his neck out, vaccinated the dogs and arranged for health certificates required for travel.

Mama and Boris arrived at the home of Neesley's mother in mid-February. Carey Neesley, the soldier's sister, knelt to embrace the dogs. "This is so awesome," she said. She said caring for a mother dog and her puppy was something her brother would do--he wouldn't have considered anything else.

Elegant dogs on parade

While people of some Christian traditions are getting ready to observe the season of Lent, dog lovers in Louisiana are putting final touches on costumes for the Mystic Krewe of Mardi Paws parade. The parade is held in conjunction with New Orleans' Mardi Gras celebration.

The dog parade features a queen, chosen for her pedigree, bloodline and philanthropic contributions to her home community (she may be a celebrity dog). The king is always a prominent society figure. Coronation takes place at the "Hair of the Dog Party" at the reviewing stand. The ceremony includes a toast of Red Dog Beer in "Waterdog" crystal flutes and awarding gourmet doggie treats.

Canine participants have carried out costume themes such as "Hairy Pawter and the Sorcerer's Bone." Along the parade route, dogs (assisted by people) throw commemorative cups, doubloons, beads, stuffed animals (mainly cats) and fake dog droppings to spectators. Present canine royalty and officers throw rare gold dog droppings, sometimes presented in a silver chalice or a strand of freshwater pearls.

The parade started in 1995. Nowadays, the parade raises funds for local nonprofits---an organization that provides art to disabled or underprivileged children, and animal welfare groups such as spay-neuter programs. The Mystic Krewe of Mardi Paws adopted the motto Pro Bono Publico, "for the public good."

Adhering to the tradition of old-line krewes (planning organizations), the Mystic Krewe of Mardi Paws cloaks itself in secrecy. A Krewe member may be expelled for divulging secrets such as the identity of captains or officers.

Krewe members believe the parade's success proves what most folks already knew. That when dogs get included in an event, everybody has more fun.

Animal control officer is hero

An Idaho animal control officer challenged two of her worst fears to rescue a two-year-old Golden Retriever that had fallen into an icy river.

It was a snowy January day and 21 degrees when Courtney Harder, 19, Shelley, Idaho, took her dog for a walk. The dog ran off to play on the frozen Snake River, but fell through when it reached a place where the ice had thinned.

The dog struggled to get out of the frigid water, but kept slipping back. Harder called encouragement. The dog fought valiantly, but couldn't get purchase on the ice's slippery edges.

The Bingham County sheriff's office came to help. They requisitioned a canoe and put Janet Gay, animal control officer, into the boat with a quantity of ropes. Gay is frightened of water, but her petite size made her the best candidate for not breaking through the ice.

As other officers pushed Gay onto the ice, Gay noticed the presence of something else in the canoe. A mouse. The only thing Gay fears more than water is mice. She crossed her fingers that the mouse would stay in its corner.

While Gay rocked the boat forward; the mouse obligingly stayed put. Gay finally got close enough to put a noose around the dog's neck. By now the dog was thoroughly spent.

When Gay got the dog safely into the boat, Harder, watching from the bank, burst into tears.

The dog had been in the water for nearly an hour and couldn't have lasted much longer.

Foods that can harm

My friend Deb was talking with a Border collie owner whose dog loves chocolate chip cookies. Deb informed the woman that chocolate can be deadly for dogs. Deb then told me something I didn't know---that raw salmon is highly dangerous for dogs. Though my three dogs don't get a chance at such an expensive treat, in the future I'll keep them away from stream banks where dead salmon wash up.

We who have dogs of course want to keep them healthy. Here is a partial list of food and substances we shouldn't feed. A conscientious dog owner can research this topic further or ask the family veterinarian for more information.

Raw salmon can cause a serious disease that kills a dog in a matter of days. Symptoms include lethargy, loss of appetite, vomiting, bloody (or bright yellow) diarrhea, and death. If you have reason to think your dog has had raw salmon, call the vet immediately.

The sugar substitute xylitol, which appears in sugarless gums and candies, can cause a dog's blood sugar to drop dangerously and also cause liver damage. Instruct children not to share these treats with the dog.

Hard to believe, but just a few grapes can have serious effect on a dog. Eating grapes and raisins can cause vomiting, diarrhea, loss of appetite, abdominal pain, lethargy, kidney failure, and sadly, death. If your dog has eaten grapes or raisins, induce vomiting, administer activated charcoal, and get the dog to the vet.

A college kid may doubt this, but beer can kill dogs. Because of their size, a dog may develop alcohol poisoning quickly. Don't risk it; keep all alcoholic drinks away from them. Marijuana, tobacco and aspirin are also taboo. And don't share coffee, tea, coke and other beverages containing caffeine.

Unaccountably, dogs and cats like the taste of antifreeze, so it must be kept where pets can't reach it.

It's hard to believe that good foods like onions, tomatoes, avocados (including guacamole) and nuts, especially macadamia, should be kept away from dogs. Also, make sure dogs don't ingest the seeds of apples and pears, or the pits of apricots and peaches.

Raw eggs offer the same risk of salmonella to dogs as they do to humans.

Dogs are lactose intolerant and may feel unwell if they consume dairy products. And you won't like how they smell.

You don't want your dog eating houseplants and garden plants anyway, but many varieties are toxic.

Too much salt isn't good for humans, and too much salt isn't good for dogs.

Do dogs sense frailty?

Dogs have the ability to detect seizures in humans before they occur, cancer at early stages and upcoming weather changes. Experts believe they can do this because of their keen senses of smell and hearing. But can dogs sense vulnerability? Does frailness have a scent of its own? In wolf packs, members detect the weak and sick, but in that situation, the pack takes out the vulnerable creature.

Two episodes set me to mulling this. The first occurred last spring when I took my German shepherd (cross malamute) along to a library when I was giving a talk about Letters from Wolfie. Among the people who attended was a genteel white-haired lady. Shakespeare, whose middle name could be Exuberance, sat quietly beside the woman as she listened to the talk, resting his head on her knee. His reaction to others who attended, younger people, was to lunge at them and thrust himself into their space.

I lately visited old friends Emily and Bill Murphy, who reside at an assisted living center near Denver. I didn't take Shakespeare along until the last day of my visit as I was leaving town. I'd walked him for an hour that morning and hoped he was tired. But when I got him out of the car, he charged forward, dragging me toward the front door.

I stopped at the front desk and asked permission to take Shakespeare to the Murphy's room. The young woman in charge said yes and gave Shakespeare a biscuit. But he was too excited to eat it and tugged on his leash, asking to get going. Just then the activities director spotted him and asked if I'd consider taking him to visit residents she knew to be dog lovers. I said yes, tightening my grip on the leash.

I intended to walk past a feeble woman who was hooked to oxygen. But she reached out her wrinkled hand to touch Shakespeare. He sat down quietly beside her, and she stroked him. The same thing happened when we visited four other dog-loving women. Shakespeare showed a tranquil side I never see.

When we reached the Murphy's, I made sure Emily was seated before letting Shakespeare enter the room. I wouldn't risk him mowing her down. When we did go in, Shakespeare again sat peacefully while Emily cooed to him.

Bill had mostly slept during my earlier visits and when he'd spoken it was in a whisper. Now his head rested on his chest and he was sound asleep. I let Shakespeare approach him. The dog licked Bill's arm politely. Bill awoke, got a happy expression, and said in an audible voice, "What a beautiful dog!" It was remarkable to watch my dog, who normally acts like a bull in a china shop, sitting serenely and accepting gentle scratching.

Do dogs sense and respect frailty? My recent experience suggests the answer is yes.

A bit of Heaven on a Sunday afternoon

I like to believe Heaven has lots of dogs, small and large, manicured and rough, puppies and gray-muzzled who run, catch balls, and explore a thousand scents while dog-lovin' people smile and watch from the sidelines.

I glimpsed such a world when my daughter, Mary, took my Border collie, Mick, and me to a Salt Lake City dog park. I'd heard that dogs got along well at those parks because none were on their home territory; still, I wondered if there'd be growling and competition.

Mary came to know dog parks this summer when she took care of Shakespeare, my German shepherd/Malamute. He has enormous energy (he was the model for Wolfie in Letters from Wolfie) and the dog parks gave him opportunities to run. Mary had observed that small dogs tended to play together, medium-sized dog liked dogs their own size, and big dogs tended to group. Shakespeare had found Malamutes to play with.

Mary and I were walking on an open path with no sign of fences when she said, "You can unleash Mick now." Then I saw the boundaries were a ravine on one side and a steep hillside on the other. Dog owners strolled down a wooded path while dogs tore around trees, splashed in a stream and played with each other. Plastic sacks and disposal sites for poop were available.

People had a natural interest in other people's dogs. I noticed a herding dog. "Australian shepherd?" I asked its owner. "Border collie?" she asked me in turn.

We stopped to pet a pug dressed for Sunday in a white and pink harness with a large rosette. "She knows she's pretty," her owner said. A black pug came over to get in on the petting, as did a dripping-wet Golden retriever. We met a brindle Great Dane and walked behind an arthritic Lab with dropping ears who soldiered his way up the path, obviously enjoying himself.

I live in a rural community where people know each other. But I can imagine the neighborliness a dog park provides for an urban location.

During the past ten years, we've watched state and national parks ban dogs from every place but parking lots. I've tended to blame owners who didn't clean up after dogs or who allowed dogs to run after wildlife. But watching a Sunday afternoon crowd of dog lovers, it's tempting to think that blanket policy has been unfair. We watched one granola-looking woman, who carried extra plastic bags, pick up poop in easy-to-overlook places.

A Utah friend said the eight or so dog parks in Salt Lake City have been hugely successful. Planners are considering putting another in a high-crime area to drive away the criminal element.

Then one more place can be a little bit of Heaven on a Sunday afternoon.

Soldier's dog

I've always thought if you stared hard enough
at a door
you could make your human come through it.

And if you kept your gaze on the leash
hanging by the coats, your person would appear,
lift it from its hook and take you for a walk.

They've hidden the balls and the Frisbee because my attention to them gives them too much sadness.

I myself am not sad by nature,
but even so, unrealized hope and mournful waiting are taking their toll.

My Border collies, April 3, 2007
by Deb Empey

Last night rain came.
Dog feet sounded a thousand times
On hard wood floors
Running from thunder.

Their love
Is left over water
That creates small shores
In a puddle of lane.

They run once more
Muddied bodied and raw,
Chasing water where it dissolves into sunshine.
And I am in awe of thunder.

Dog is Rockies fan/life saver
by Kathy King (Denver)

Had been feeling a little down lately, but then I got a slap-in-the-face, wake-up kind of thing.
My friend and I had gone to the Rockies game against the Dodgers. The game wasn't going well; we trailed the Dodgers most of the evening. I was tired and my toes, which I'd broken two months before, ached.

During the game, shots of the crowd were projected onto the big screen. My friend said he saw a dog wearing a Rockies ball cap. "They don't let dogs in here, do they?" I said it must be a service dog.

It was a stressful game, but in the bottom of the ninth, Matt Holliday (batting .338) singled to first base. He was followed by Todd Helton, who was down to two strikes with two outs when he hit a HOME RUN. We got the two runs needed to win the game. It was a magical moment and everyone went wild. Helton was named MVP of the game.

On our walk back to the car we saw a man in a wheelchair, no legs whatsoever, in front of us. I saw he had a little dog on his lap and told my friend that was the dog he'd seen on the big screen.

The man sped ahead of us in his electric wheelchair, but turned into the same parking lot where we were headed. He wound up facing us. Pointing to his dog he said, "He's the reason we won the game." The dog wore a purple Rockies hat and a service dog jacket in Rockies colors. We petted him.

"This dog saved my life," the man said. He'd been in an accident five years ago. He understood now that it took about seven years to start living with a disability like his and he was still in the learning stages.

He told us how he'd come to have the dog. Someone had abused the dog and thrown it through a patio door, breaking the dog's leg. The man in the wheel chair rescued him and took him to a vet, who put a pin in the pup's leg. The man and dog had been together ever since.

When we said goodbye to the gentleman and his pup, he blessed us.

Prayer for the animals
by Dr. Albert Schweitzer

Hear our humble prayer, O God, for our friends the animals, especially for animals who are suffering; for any who are hunted or lost or deserted or frightened or hungry; for all that must be put to death.

We ask for them all your mercy and pity and for those who deal with them we ask a heart of compassion, gentle hands and kindly words.

Wolfie and his namesake

I've felt honored by recognitions that have come Letters from Wolfie's way. (See the most recent, from Japan, on the Letters from Wolfie page.) But now Oregon poet Red Shuttleworth has paid the book a lovely compliment by naming his new Irish wolfhound pup Wolfie.

Red and his daughter, Clara, picked up the puppy in San Francisco. (Puppy? He weighed 21 pounds. He was the largest in his litter of nine.) The mama wolfhound had some trouble with the pregnancy, but she's all right now.

Red and his wife, Kate, are remodeling their downstairs to make a studio for Red. Though large in talent (True West calls Red the American West's greatest living poet and if you read his work you'll see why), Red himself isn't a large man. The remodeling aims to accommodate the pup, who, when grown, will stand 37 inches at the shoulder. Red says the dog will be his co-author.

I've always loved wolfhounds. I'm hoping the Shuttleworth dog can be my godpup.

Runs with coyotes
by Patti

My dogs are in good shape this fall. This spring when the vet weighed them they were on the tubby side. I started taking them for walks on public land near my home. But a desert coyote has been taking them for runs.

We encountered the coyote in April. One morning he rose on hind legs from behind a sagebrush and barked at us. It wasn't full daylight and the coyote showing himself like that seemed eerie.

My three dogs tore after him.

We saw him every morning. He would show himself, bark and yip, and my dogs would streak off in pursuit. The coyote would lope off, not getting out of second gear.

I thought the coyote wanted to lure us away from a den of pups. But the game persisted for months, wherever we chose to walk on the big expanse of land.

The Border collies tired of the game. But Shakespeare, my good-hearted German shepherd/Malamute who was the model for Wolfie in Letters from Wolfie, continued to believe the coyote would stay put, and he might catch him or at least visit with him.

As the dogs got harder to convince, the coyote moved in closer. He now comes within 40 feet of us, yipping and teasing.

One morning last week I whistled my dogs in. They came running, Mimi first, then Shakespeare, then Mick. I was surprised to see the coyote running a few feet behind Mick. It didn't look like attack; I think the coyote didn't want the targets of his harassment to get too far away.

This story is bouncing around the Internet.
Definitely aimed at dog lovers.

A man out for a walk with his dog suddenly realized that he was dead. The dog walking beside him had died years before.

The two of them came to a magnificent gate that led to a golden street. The traveler approached a man seated at a desk.

"Excuse me. Where are we?"
"This is Heaven, sir."
"Would you happen to have some water?"
"Of course. Come in. I'll have some ice water brought over. The gate began to open."
"Can my friend come, too?
I'm sorry; we don't accept pets."

The man thought a moment, then turned away and continued the way he had been going.

At the top of a hill, he came to a farm gate, and a man sitting beside a tree reading a book.

"Excuse me!" he called. Do you have any water?
"Sure, there's a pump over there. Come on in."
"How about my friend here?"
"There's a bowl by the pump."

The man filled a dipper for himself and the bowl for the dog. Both drank until they were full.

The traveler called to the man by the tree, "What do you call this place?"
"This is Heaven."
"But the man down the road said that was Heaven."
"The place with the gold street and pearly gate? Nope. That's hell."
"Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like that?"
"Oh no. We're happy they screen out folks who would leave their best friends behind."

Eagles beware!
by Patti

Alaskans in Skagway are telling this story, and swear it is every bit true.

An elderly Skagway woman was walking her dog, a poodle. Suddenly, an eagle swooped down and grasped the dog with its talons. The bird tried to carry off the dog, but the woman still had hold of the dog's leash.

A tug-of-war ensued, until the woman remembered she had a weapon. The cane in her other hand. She lifted the cane and smote the eagle. Thwack! She smote it again. The eagle let go of the dog, which fell to the ground, bloody from the terrible talons.

The dog required 39 stitches at the veterinarian's, but it lived. And the eagle? Maybe in the future it will take the measure of its prey more carefully and avoid small dogs attached to determined old women with canes.

Dogs find ever more ways to help

During my vacation, I had the opportunity to observe several service dogs. On a Greyhound bus I met Bear, a beautiful year-old German shepherd. Bear's person lived in a group home until recently because seizures prevented him from living on his own. Now the man lives in an apartment and can travel from city to city by bus. Bear detects an approaching seizure before it occurs and alerts the man to take medication.

Passengers fell in love with Bear and fed him cookies and treats. I felt honored to share a bottle of water with him, which he drank from my cupped palm.

On a ferry bound for Alaska, I met Kiko, a small Maltese with huge eyes. Kiko, dressed in an assistance dog cape, went everywhere with the woman he assists, riding in the crook of her arm. In Ketchikan, Alaska, a husky pulling a wheelchair passed me on the street.

Also in Ketchikan, I saw a large, friendly Malamute who rendered a different sort of service. The dog's harness was stuffed with dollar bills because the dog's person, who may have been homeless or maybe simply enterprising, made the dog available to tourists, who were happy to pet a big, gorgeous dog.

Large or small, assistance or companion dogs, canines help us to have better lives. Dogs have been humankind's good friends for thousands of years, and the ways they find to aid us just keep increasing.

My dog
by Wally Whiteclouder

The afternoon matinee let out, and completely satisfied with a Randolph Scott western, a Little Rascals short feature and two Looney Toons, I stepped into the blinding light. Squinting against the sun, I turned to walk to the soda shop next door and was met with a woof of recognition.

My dog, who had been sitting on his haunches scanning faces as kids streamed out of the show house, fell in beside me. We turned at the barber shop and started the short two and a half-block walk to my house. He had waited the full two hours, patiently and faithfully, to guard me on my way home, like he was supposed to.

I had this vignette play out in my mind today as I waited for my wife outside City Hall where she was paying the garbage bill. I must have seen twenty kids in the ten or so minutes that I sat there and not one had a dog. I find that sad.

Foxy Babe
by Desiree Ferguson

Foxy Babe was a darling fluffy orange three-month-old Pomeranian. She was so adorable, she could get by with anything, however, this one almost ruined her Mama, and we wondered if her papers should have read, Tasmanian Devil.

In June, there was to be a wedding at Foxy's house. Jillions of double-ruffled white petunias bloomed profusely in planters on the patio where the ceremony would take place.

The morning before the sunset wedding, little Foxy went outside to play: swing by her teeth on the low branches of the willow tree and chase butterflies. When her Mama went out to collect her for lunch, there were double-ruffled petunia blossoms scattered all over the patio. Foxy sat in the midst of the planters full of bare stems, looking adorably innocent with a blossom in her mouth.

After taking a couple of snapshots, which later ended up in the wedding album, Mama took a quick trip to the greenhouse and that solved most of the problem. Foxy spent the rest of the day in the house.

It's all part of Puppy Love.

Stink Spud
by Wally Whiteclouder

As a young boy growing up in Idaho, I had a dog. Or was it the dog had me? Either way, we spent endless hours during the summer, sniffing out opportunities to explore, basking lazily in the warm glow of youth, and generally enjoying our lives and each other's company. His name was Spud and he was seventy-five pounds of brown and tan collie-lab cross. And of course he was the smartest dog that ever lived. I loved that mutt and he me. If I went somewhere he came along, when I ate so did he, when I slept he was at the side of the bed, and when I went to the movies he waited in front on the sidewalk until I came out.

I've never believed you have to physically abuse any creature, human or otherwise, to make a point. This belief was borne out by that dog. If he thought for an instant I was unhappy with him, he'd slink under the table, to peer out a few minutes later to see if I was still upset with him. I only had to give him a dirty look. Finessing this sensitivity, I trained him to not beg at the table, to quit growling when told to, to not charge into a fight with other dogs, and to not chase cats. He learned these and the other good manners that make a dog a pleasure to be with. He understood me and I him.

So why did he run with a dog who insisted in rolling in every putrid, rotten piece of carrion? Why did the two of them have to find every excrement pile in the county and get it all over themselves? Spud would come home in that condition, knowing full well he was going to be chastised. Yet he persisted. It broke my heart to see him sit there, head bowed, eyes downcast and ears drooping. But I couldn't get near him until he had spent a few shivering minutes being sluiced with the garden hose, and even then it was a breathtaking chore to hand-wash him properly. He couldn't understand that it was not he who was so objectionable, it was the stink of the stuff he rolled in.

He lived for almost sixteen years and never did learn that the company he kept could taint him to the point where even his best friend would turn away. But how could I expect him to? He was, after all, just a dog, and we couldn't expect him to have the sense of a human being, now could we?

We all love stories about dogs

This page features dog stories. I'll supply most, but I invite you to tell your story, too. Let's keep them to 500 words. As you may know, stories posted here have no copyright protection.

I'll post the stories and comments that are right for this venue. Mailing a story to dogblog@pattisherlock.com says you're okay with some editing if necessary.

Thanks for stopping by.

Stories

Touching story from war zone

Elegant dogs on parade

Animal control officer is hero

Foods that can harm

Do dogs sense frailty?

A bit of Heaven on a Sunday afternoon

Soldier's dog

My Border collies
by Deb Empey

Dog is Rockies fan/life saver
by Kathy King, Denver

Prayer for the animals
by Dr. Albert Schweitzer

Wolfie and his namesake

Runs with coyotes
by Patti

Story bouncing around the internet

Eagles beware!
by Patti

Dogs find ever more ways to help

My dog
by Wally Whiteclouder

Foxy Babe
by Desiree Ferguson

Stink Spud
by Wally Whiteclouder