by Cliffmeister2000 » Fri Jul 23, 2010 2:35 pm
SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL LEASH LAW
I grew up before leash laws became popular. We always had a dog. The first one I remember was Cindy. Cindy was a typical tan terrier mix with a white half collar. About all I remember was, she ran away and dug a hole in a hillside and had pups one day. She would come home for food, and my older brother tailed her and found the pups. He collected them all up and brought them home.
I have no recollection of what happened to Cindy or to the other pups, but one of those pups was to become Sport. Sport was the best dog a kid could have. In first grade, sport followed me to school every day. This was no great feat, because our house was second from the end of the houses on our street. After the houses was a field of weeds. A dirt road separated our tract from the field, and if you were to take a right on the dirt road, shortly you would get to the school on the left. Funny thing about that school; it had a fence that seemed ten feet tall to me at the time. I wasn’t so tall, so my perspective was probably a mite off. The school was fenced along the road, and along the other, paved road, that made up the corner the school was situated on. The back lot, which was the playground, was not fenced. That made for an easy walk through the playground, onto the dirt road, and to my house. I never took the dirt road clear to our street, however; I hung a left at the street behind us, and through the neighbor’s yard and down the slope to my backyard.
Sport became the First Grade mascot, but we didn’t call him that. He just came to school, curled up in a corner or under my desk, and slept until recess or when school was out. Sport was a good dog, and my teacher knew it and let him have his space. In second grade, Sport was not allowed in the classroom, so he just curled up outside and waited patiently. By third grade, he was becoming an issue with the school, and one day the custodian tied him up to the incinerator. That was it; I had to teach Sport to stay home.
One day I came home to find Sport all chewed up. I don’t know if he left the yard and got in a dog fight, or, more likely, dogs came into our backyard and picked a fight with him, but he looked the worse for it. I was so upset, and for years I blamed the custodian. Papa came home and looked disgustedly at the dog, and said something to the effect that he would either make it or not. There was no trip to the vet in Sport’s future.
I had three more dogs while I lived at home, and we never had a fence or a chain for the dogs, and the dogs were never allowed in the house. Looking back, I see how cruel that is. Good fences build good neighbors, and good fences make for good, long lived dogs.
Or, it could be just me... 