Saturday News of the Dog

It's been my policy to stay away from disturbing news when I present my Saturday wrap-ups of the week's dog news. The papers are full of stories about puppy mills and dog fighting and people throwing dogs off balconies and such, and I don't want to fill people's heads with that kind of stuff.

Still, this first story today is far from pleasant. Bizarre, sad, disturbing story about a guy who wanted to be a dogman, and what went wrong. Robert Brunette, of Boulder, CO, kept about 50 dogs and lived with them as their "Alpha." Weird, Lord of the Flies type antics ensued. Now he's been convicted on all counts, and it seems, this putative "dogman" is facing 4 years in prison. The moral of this story: Kids, don't try this at home. Or, perhaps, try not to go too crazy.

Science has weighed in, and it's official, verified and scientific. Dogs are smarter than cats! I can't imagine this finding will result in any controversy whatsoever. I am refraining from mentioning this finding to Erica Kane, however.

Here's something positive, for a certain dog, anyway. Liza, a dog of uncertain provenance from Iraq, survived a suicide blast last week that killed 125 and injured 500. Humans. But Liza is alright, and has been reunited with a 14 year old boy who is the sole surviving member of his family. Of course the dogman wishes both Liza and her young master all the best.

With so few shopping days until Christmas, let us be thankful for The USA Today for providing us with a handy guide for the top ten gifts for dogs and cats.

Speaking of dogs and Christmas gifts, it's gratifying to know that Bo Obama will have his own Christmas stocking in the White House. Naturally, Levi opposes this, claiming that it will add to the deficit, but Levi's feelings about the First Dog might color his opinion somewhat. For one, I'm hoping Bo and the whole Obama family have a great Christmas!


This dog talks! Again, this particular dog talks!







© 2009, All Rights Reserved, Rich Sands

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Dug-Up Bones

This is my 24^th posting in as many days, and I've been very pleased and excited by the interest in and reaction to my blog. Since the Den opened 24 days ago, I have fiddled with the set-up and design, and added and subtracted counting widgets and such. I've had Statburner, Feedburner, Trendcounter, and several others that I have taken on and off my site since its creation. As a result, I don't have an accurate count of how many page views, or visitors, I've had, or what country these readers are from. However, preliminary estimates are most encouraging.

If my calculations are inexact or my methodology questionable, I apologize, but, as of today, I estimate my web site has had over 3.5 million page hits from more than one million separate individuals! The results of my new flag counter, when combined with those of my old flag counter, reveal that these million-plus readers seemingly come from 3,657 different nations! I'm slightly humbled that my words are reaching so many, but, ultimately, I feel it's for the best.


Note: The Den of the Dogman had a very ugly banner, and a friend of mine who prefers to go by the nom de guerre, "Muse", who made me a great Entreecard, has said she's going to make me a nice banner. She started to, but it wasn't long enough! Now she says she'll fix it, and maybe she will, but for now, I have an idea! The first Den of the Dogman ™Official Contest! Design the Dogman's blog's banner! If you don't know what this means, you probably won't win the contest, so don't bother entering. 

Send your beautiful and appropriately sized banner art in today! The winner will enjoy the thrill that comes with being chosen, and will also receive a personal e-mail from the Dogman! (multiple entries are allowed!) Send in your "Dogman" banner .jpg today!




And now, a look back at some of my favorite's since this site's inception. If you missed any of these, read them now, and no one need know you didn't read it the first chance you had!

Labs, Monkeys, Pirates and the Essence of Fear: A funny story about Vinnie, a black lab Seeing Eye dog, and a few of the things that frightened him. Not unreasonable things, but genuinely scary stuff, like a monkey in the courthouse! And then there's the pirates!

"Look Out, Cat!!!™" It's every dog's favorite rainy day fun game! It's the exciting new craze that's sweeping the doggie countryside. Read all about it and get the official rules. Leagues are forming SOON! Funny, because it's true! (NO kitties are harmed during properly conducted games of "Look Out, Cat!!!™")

Meet Lyric, my late wife's first Seeing Eye dog, a beautiful, high-strung, brilliant German shepherd. An ultimately sweet and touching story, about the most intimate of dog-human partnerships – and how it all started with hate at first sight!

Let Us Sit Upon the Ground and Tell Sad Stories of the Death of Kings A very sad story about Karen's last Seeing Eye dog, Arthur. Perhaps the greatest of all dogs meeting perhaps the saddest of all ends. If you don't already keep Kleenex next to the computer, get some before you start reading this story. But read it, please. Whatever else, Arthur earned our attention.

Dreams of Dogs and Cats Levi and Erica discuss their dreams. A rare insight into the inner workings of our pets psyches! A light, funny, fantasy piece.

Come back to the den tomorrow for the beginning of a week of new stories.

© 2009, All Rights Reserved, Rich Sands

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Saturday's News of the Dog

Welcome to Saturday's assembly of dog news. No reports on dogs starving, or abused, or fighting…just decent dog news for ordinary, decent, dogs like yours. 

I'll keep up on what's going on in the world of dogs, so you don't have to.

Part of a series about Scout, the puppy, who today swims indoor in Manhattan! City dogs have the life!

How a dog's mind works. This is a GREAT article from the NY Times about the latest theories of the mind of dogs, and how they can learn to do such incredible things. The article talks about how dogs are intellectually about on par with a 2 ½ year old human, and emotionally on a whole different level than people. Incredibly interesting!

Church services for LA area dogs. I suppose they couldn't get less out of it than some people!










It's official. Both dogs and cats can get swine flu, so I guess it's time for them to panic, too.

A mutt in Pittsburgh is nursing nine African Painted dogs. Very cool!

A marine finds a stray mutt in Iraq…and gets the dog home with him! A story of how man and dog should care for each other.

And, finally, here's Bob, the fattest dog in all of Scotland. I have no further comment.


© 2009, All Rights Reserved, Rich Sands

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Levi's Issues, Part 2

Part 1


One bright November day, Levi and Esmé went out to swim and hunt. Levi came home alone, obviously traumatized. We looked for a week, but never found her body. Given where we lived, we knew she hadn't been hit by a car, or stolen. The coyotes of the area, though, could be dangerous. 

Together, Levi and Esmé were big enough to deter an out and out coyote ambush. But if a group of coyotes, in the guise of playing, attracted one of them far enough away from the other, that puppy would have been easy prey. I'm fairly certain that's what happened to Esmé, and I'm also pretty sure Levi saw it.


Levi fell into a serious depression. Arthur was heartbroken, and in order to cope with his loss, took to punishing Levi more frequently and randomly.

Ordinarily, I would have been more on top of the situation, protecting Levi from his bully of a brother, but Karen was getting increasingly sick during this time, and my attention was more on her than it was on caring for Levi. I have no doubt that's as it should have been, but the result was Levi remained in what could only be described as an abusive home environment. Arthur never hurt him to an extent where vet care was needed, but he did what he could to see that Levi's natural high spirits were repressed.

Levi recovered from losing his sister and began to be a happy puppy again. There was an old woman who lived across the way from us named Ethel, who Levi would visit every day. She'd give him cookies, and talk to him, and let him graze cherry tomatoes off her plants. Ethel was Levi's grandma, and she helped him get over the terrible loss of Esmé. Since Arthur wouldn't leave the yard, Levi could visit Ethel by himself, and have an opportunity to feel confident and good about himself.


Ethel died suddenly and unexpectedly in December. Levi went to her house day after day, but grandma never came out to play with him again. His depression returned, and despite Levi's obviously damaged state, Arthur never let up on him for a second. Nevertheless, Levi carried on. He loved Arthur, I suppose in much the same way battered wives love their abusive husbands. Erica was a great comfort to him, and he adored his mom and dad. 

Then, in January, his mom died.

Within a few months, Levi, Arthur, Erica and I began a kind of vagabond existence. We moved from the only house he ever knew into a small trailer with a friend in Taos. I worked as a waiter, and Levi and Arthur would spend the day together. When I would come home from work, Arthur was usually protecting his Frisbee, while Levi was running to the car to greet me. I can only imagine what their days alone together were like.


Then the pack moved from wild New Mexico to super civilized Scottsdale. Despite all the upheaval, Levi was becoming happy again. He'd become an adult, and there was much less corporal punishment delivered by Arthur, who Levi still seemed to worship. We started going to the dog park, where Arthur would, of course, obsess over his Frisbee, and where Levi finally had the opportunity to behave as a quasi-independent adult dog.


For about nine months, things at the park were fine. We spent so much time there that Levi began to see it as his territory. Once he determined that he was in charge of the park, he naturally assumed that keeping puppies in line was one of his responsibilities. I'm not saying Levi didn't enjoy the small cruelties he inflicted on the puppies (click for a short film of such abuse), and I'm not saying it was right. I'm just saying I understood.

Eventually, Levi started to be too bad to bring to the park anymore. This was hard on him, because he loved his large group of park friends, but I couldn't stop him from being a bully, so we stopped going. Arthur didn't care; he could fetishize the Frisbee in the back yard as well as anywhere else, but Levi's social circle was again reduced to insane Arthur. At least now he had Rocky and Chi-Chi as friends, as well as Erica, but his primary companion remained Arthur, who that good boy, Levi, still loved like crazy, despite everything. Then Arthur got bone cancer and died.

Soon after that, my father, who Levi had of course loved, had to be moved out of the house due to advanced Alzheimer's. Levi's grandpa died about a year later, though Levi had many opportunities to visit with him in the assisted living facility. When my dad couldn't remember what relationship he had with my mother or me, he never forgot how much he loved his dogs, Chi-Chi, Rocky, and now, Levi. Then grandpa was gone.


In the first year of life, Levi was abandoned by his original family, lost his sister, his "grandma," and then Karen, his mom. He was bullied by a much older, much bigger dog, who he nonetheless worshiped. He lived in four different homes. Additionally, during all this time, he had a dad who was going through hell, and wasn't in a good mental state himself. 

That Levi has survived, and turned out as well as he did, not only amazes me, but it inspires me, and helps me get through some of my own bad times. He's been my best friend, and my crutch, since Karen died, and I'm content to know that whatever road life leads us down, we'll travel it together.


So, there, Levi is not a perfect dog. I said it. Just be sure you don't say it. Nobody talks about my boy like that.




© 2009, All Rights Reserved, Rich Sands

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Levi's Issues

As much as I love Levi, it pains me to admit that he's not a perfect dog. Like a lot of us, he has issues. Unhappily, the one issue that's ever come up with Levi that I consider serious is an occasional display of unwarranted aggression aimed at other dogs. Though he lives harmoniously with his pack, in a dog park situation he can be a  bully. Making the problem worse is Levi's ordinary choice of victim. Levi likes to beat up puppies.

He never injured a puppy, but he liked to roll them, and stand over them in a dominant manner, that demanded my immediate intervention. You'll note the use of the past tense, because I sadly can't take him to the park anymore, even though he plays entirely appropriately with almost every other dog. But puppies bring out the worst in Levi, as do German Shepherds, who he tends to react to with fear-based aggression. Being significantly smaller than a German Shepherd, this often didn't work out well for Levi.


Levi is an extremely sensitive dog, and in all other matters, he really is incredibly nice and well mannered. I haven't exactly trained him, but he'll usually obey any commands issued in a conversational tone by me, or anyone else he knows. The primary "trick" he knows is to "be a little gentleman." When he's getting overly excited or rowdy, all I have to say to him is, "Levi, you be a little gentleman now," and he settles down immediately, lying down and crossing his arms in a surprisingly dainty manner.

He's never shown an ounce of aggression towards people, and is unusually gentle with little kids and old people. He good naturedly takes abuse from Rocky, and occasionally Erica and Chi-Chi, treating the smaller members of the pack with patient indulgence.


Coming from the esteemed Abeytas breeding grounds, Levi should be a perfect dog. He has the genes for it, the nature. Like everyone else, though, Levi has been shaped by both his nature and his nurturing. Though the crying puppy at the park doesn't know or care, there is a reason Levi acts like he does. 

As with most delinquents, or psychopaths, for that matter, the problems stem from an extremely difficult childhood. That might sound like a cop-out, but when you hear Levi's story, you'll not only understand why he does the bad things he sometimes does, but you'll marvel at how he turned out to be such an overall splendid dog despite his early adversity.


Karen and I got Levi when he was about three months old. He had been weaned from his mother for a couple of weeks, and in late June of 2001, he and his sister, Esmé, had been taken by my friend Rick's irresponsible daughter and her boyfriend. On July 4, Rick asked me if I would help him clear out the trailer his daughter had abandoned. When we got there, besides a trashed trailer, we found Levi and Esmé curled up, together, scared, hungry, and ditched.


Karen seemed to be recovering from her cancer, and the only animals we had were Arthur, her German Shepherd Seeing Eye dog, and Erica, the cat. It didn't hurt that Levi and Esmé were the two cutest puppies you ever saw, but I had no real choice. They were coming home with me and joining the pack.


Karen was delighted. Levi and his sister were not only adorable, they were smarter, more sensitive and more responsive than any dogs I've ever known before. There was never a housebreaking issue, or, indeed, any issues beyond the most casual of puppy shenanigans. Erica loved them instantly, and they would play with her with the kind of unfettered joy that only puppies really know, and that maybe only cats can really appreciate.

And then there was Arthur.


Arthur was absolutely enchanted by the puppies. He put aside his Frisbee obsession enough to be instrumental in raising them, and in teaching them how to act right. The thing was, though, Arthur was in no way temperamentally qualified for the job of raising puppies. In fact, as I've written earlier, Arthur was half-crazed by this time, after having been involuntarily retired due to Karen's illness.


Initially, Arthur treated the puppies well. He clearly loved them, and just wanted to teach them right from wrong. Unfortunately, "right" and "wrong" were rather fluid concepts in Arthur's head. What might be fine on Monday would merit a harsh correction on Tuesday. Though there was little consistency to his rules, Arthur vigorously enforced them anyway. This led to Levi getting beat up, a lot, for doing things he had no way of knowing Arthur considered wrong.


By mid-August, Arthur was head-over-heels in love with Esmé. She was sweet, and coquettish, and was the first dog Arthur had ever truly loved. Despite his feelings for her, though, Arthur knew he had a duty as her teacher. When she misbehaved, when she broke one of his ever changing rules, punishment still had to be meted out. But Arthur could no longer bring himself to discipline Esmé. So whenever Esmé did something Arthur considered wrong, he would promptly punish poor Levi.

Esmé never acted with intent to get Levi in trouble. They were almost like conjoined twins, connected at the shoulder, and Esmé would no more have done anything to hurt Levi than she would have to hurt herself. They slept wrapped up in each other, and when they were awake they were almost always touching each other. 

We lived in the country, and Levi and Esmé would go out every day to swim in the arroyos and hunt rabbits. Arthur never joined them, because he was too busy guarding and worrying about his Frisbee. I'm not sure how often the hunt was a success, but a number of times, Levi would come home with a juicy rabbit leg, and deliver his tribute to King Arthur. Arthur would take it, happily, though not gratefully, and later that night would punish Levi for some imaginary infraction that Esmé committed anyway.

Imagine your crazy Uncle Arthur beating you up every time your sister did something he didn't like. This injustice began to make Levi, this perfect, joyful, puppy, a little jumpy and submissive. Meanwhile, Esmé, his shadow, enjoyed total immunity. Even Levi knew this wasn't fair. 


He was about to learn how unfair life really could be to a little yellow puppy...


Tomorrow: The Conclusion of Levi's Issues
(I promise to only infrequently write two-part stories. I don't like them, and I don't intend to regularly have cliffhangers, but this particular story was just too important and too involved)




© 2009, All Rights Reserved, Rich Sands

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Weekly Recap and Message from the Dogman

                                              The Dogman begs:

Read my blog. Please leave me comments, complaints and compliments. I am responsive to feedback.

Pass this blog along. If you like a particular piece, send it, or a link, to a friend. Post it on Facebook. Twitter it. Give it a thumbs up on StumbleUpon. Write your thoughts in the comment section. If you dislike a piece, I'd like to know as much as if you like one.

The blog's look has changed due, in large measure, to reader input. I stopped running random Google ads and switched to Amazon, so I could personally recommend my favorite dog related books and products. I've also added Amazon's Dog Blog, because it seems to nicely complement the den. As always, I remain open to your ideas.

It's Halloween weekend, so please make sure your cats, especially, and your dogs, are indoors or somewhere safe.

Again, thanks for reading, and now, without further ado, the weekly recap!

How to Breed the Perfect Dog

An article detailing a model breeding program in the tiny town of Abeytas, New Mexico. This is the ancestral home of Levi!

Dogs and (Pole) Cats

The peculiar relationship between dogs and skunks. Why do dogs seem to like smelling like that? A theory is presented.

Cerberus Meets Caligula, a play in one scene

Unintentionally, one of the Dogman’s more controversial pieces. A.K. of S. California hated it. V.R. of Madison, WI, loved it. I think it’s…alright. A light hearted look at the three-headed dog who guards the Gates of Hades, and his encounter with deranged Roman emperor, Caligula. An affectionate nod to Monsieur Sartre's great plays, No Exit and Caligula. Read it and voice in with your comments. Warning to sensitive readers: Cerberus, guard of the nether world, spends a good deal of time cleaning his nether regions! Make sure children don’t read it, because they might giggle at the idea of a dog licking himself, and we must discourage that kind of frivolity!

“Look Out, Cat!!! ™

A description of, and rules for, the favorite indoor game for two or more dogs who live with a cat. Read it. Leagues forming soon in your area.

Coming Saturday: Dog News and, hopefully, your pictures of your dogs in Halloween costumes.

© 2009, All Rights Reserved, Rich Sands

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How to Breed the Perfect Dog

Levi is the finest example possible of a well bred dog. Note the classic line of his body, the expressive face. He weighs in at 70 pounds, as densely packed as a fireplug, yet he’s compact enough that his body only comes to my knees, with the exception of his head and splendidly carried tail. Observe that noble head, its perfect sense of proportion that completes this masterwork of canine engineering. Man may have bred a finer dog at some time, but I’d have to see it to believe it.

Levi is no recognizable breed, but he certainly looks like he should be.

Nor, however, is he an accident of nature and circumstance, as most mixed-breed dogs are. No, Levi is the byproduct of selective human intervention going back at least ten (dog) generations, perhaps many more.

Usually, with a mutt, you just don’t know what you have. You have a combination of half-dozen or more breeds, and when someone asks, “What kind of dog is that,” the only appropriate answer is, “I have no idea, but had I been present at his conception, I surely would have turned a hose on his parents." I’ve owned and loved a lot of dogs like that; this is not the case with Levi.

Levi is a product of Abeytas, New Mexico, perhaps the finest product ever produced by that tiny hamlet just south of Belen. Abeytas is inhabited primarily, if not totally, by the extended family of my friend, Rick Abeyta. Rick’s an impressive guy.  He built his beautiful house by hand, now takes care of his grandchildren, works as a senior investigator at the public defender’s office, and is just an all around good citizen. Aware of all these virtues, I still maintain that Rick’s finest achievement is the experimental dog breeding program that thrives on ancestral land that has belonged to Rick’s family since some time in the 1600s.

Rick probably won’t like it, but I am prepared to reveal the details of his breeding program, in the hope that his practices will be emulated by animal husbandry enthusiasts across the land, so more dogs like Levi will be born. Recognizing that my tone that could be mistaken for sarcasm, let me assure you that I am completely serious in my praise of Rick, and his family's, highly unconventional breeding program.

Life in rural New Mexico provides unlimited opportunity for unplanned pregnancy of mongrel dogs. Dog generations back, Rick began to select breeding dogs based not on pedigree, but upon good, New Mexico, common sense. If Rover and Lassie (these names are for theoretical purposes only, of course) are both healthy dogs and each possesses the most important characteristic, the litter will have at least some puppies who combine the genetics of the parents into an even more perfect template of what a dog should be. Those puppies are then bred with other dogs that have been created using similar criteria, and, again, in their litters there will be puppies who equal more than the sum of the parts of their already superior parents.

I’ve witnessed Rick’s breeding program for years and have marveled at the results. For many years, Lolita, a relative of Levi’s from several generations back, lived in our pack. She was the most beautiful, jet-black, silky-haired, long-legged, shepherd I’ve ever seen. I say “shepherd” because she had a wolf-like shape, as does Levi. I don’t think anyone could pinpoint what she was really made of, where one “breed” stopped and another began.

I could, and one day will, write about the particulars of Lolita’s personality, but for now please accept that she was the most loving, good humored, spectacular dog that I’ve ever owned, purebred Seeing Eye dogs, and Levi, included. Her one downside was that she could fly. Literally. She could hop over a seven foot fence like I can step over a matchbox. Since we couldn’t keep her in a cage, like a parakeet, she often flew away, only to return when she felt like it. In this sense, only, Lolita was not a perfect dog.

Levi, carrying many of the same genes as Lolita, is a more refined version of his progenitor that irons out some of her kinks, mainly the “being able to fly” stuff. He has Lolita’s exalted looks and, more importantly, her splendid character. Lolita and Levi are the two smartest, kindest, and most thoughtful dogs I’ve ever been lucky enough to spend time with. In future entries in this blog, I’ll make my case for that, but for the time being, just accept it as fact.

To me, Levi looks like the ur-dog, like a dog “should” look, and did look, when their breeding habits were left to what some call "chance," but what is actually natural selection. It is whispered in the streets of Abeytas that there’s a touch of the coyote and the wolf in Rick’s line of dogs. I believe that. Levi and Lolita both have more cunning than ordinary dogs, more endurance, and, most indefinably, more pure and wild animal wisdom. Furthermore, the only dogs I've ever owned who required non-routine veterinary care have been the purebred Seeing Eye dogs. Levi and Lolita have never seen a vet for any reason besides vaccinations and a yearly once-over.

In a sense Rick is breeding backward, moving ever further from the pedigree. But the purebred dog, as we know it, is a relatively modern innovation, and what Rick breeds is something far purer than any such animal.

Purebred dogs aren’t natural. It’s been my experience that they are far more prone to disorders necessitating expensive veterinarian care than are mongrels. Given that my main experience with purebred dogs has been with Seeing Eye dogs, which might be the most carefully and scientifically bred dogs in history, I can’t doubt for a moment the proposition that the genetic diversity of mixed breeds makes them healthier and more vigorous than purebreds. All of my experience confirms this. I love purebreds, but I’m much happier with a genuine dog.

Rick is restoring the dog to its more ancient glory, to a time when man and dog had a symbiotic, and, to my mind, more vitally meaningful, relationship, to the time New Mexico was harsh and unforgiving, when both men and dogs had harder, wilder, lives than we do. Levi has that spark of the ancient in his eyes, that selfsame aura that permeates the mountains and forests and canyons of the Land of Enchantment. Though unofficial, Levi is the State Dog of New Mexico, and I’m more proud of him than I could be of any purebred that won Best of Show at Westminster, because, to my mind, Levi is Best if Species.

© 2009, All Rights Reserved, Rich Sands

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Rocky's Way

Say hello to Rocky.

Rocky is cute, but he might be the dumbest dog ever born. That doesn't matter, though, because, lack of brains aside, Rocky always tries really hard, whatever he may be doing, and he always shows a lot of character, consistently and proactively. It might not be the best character 100% of the time, but it's front and center. So while it's true that in a dog I.Q. test Rocky would be lucky to hit the low double digits, he perfectly illustrates the maxim (and if it's not already a maxim, I'm declaring it one now) that when you try hard, and you have a lot of character (of whatever nature), intelligence is largely beside the point.

Rocky is my mom’s dog, which makes him, legally speaking, my brother. Levi is my dog, so he is Rocky’s nephew, though they’re both the same age, eight. My thirteen year old cat, Erica, is Rocky’s niece, and my mother is known as “Grandma” to Levi and Erica, and as “Mom” to Rocky and Chi-Chi, the Chihuahua, who I will write about some other day. I assure you this sounds far more confusing than it actually is.

Continued