Dog Stories
dog stories for kids
Human cruelty to and neglect of dogs is a paradigm for the cruelty that humans exhibit to each other. Of course not all of us are cruel to and neglect dogs and not all of us are cruel to each other. But there is enough to go around as any student of the bible or victims of demagogues and racists can attest.
Wags was just such a victim of human callousness and neglect. Our circumstances from the time I came home from the war to the time of which I am writing made having a canine friend live with us too difficult to extend the care to which a dog is entitled. But our two older children were of an age where they wanted to have a dog live with us. So when our daughter June brought home a wet, cold, stray puppy and begged to have him live with us, we gave in.
The puppy was hungry and thirsty and had obviously been put out to fend for himself. June named him Wags because of the rapid tail wagging that any friendly word elicited.
Wags had been with us just a few days and we were preparing to get him licensed and examined by a veterinarian. But we wanted to feed him up a little because his ribs showed through his coat. We gave him quarters in our warm finished basement because he had been so cold. June made him a bed of old towels and set aside a dedicated water and food dish.
I came home from work one evening and went down to visit with Wags. When I stroked him, I realized that he was shivering despite the heat in the basement that had me perspiring. We had a rectal thermometer in the house and I took Wags' temperature. It was about 104 °F. A healthy dog's temperature should be about 101 °F. I suspected distemper, a very contagious viral disease that is very often fatal. I didn't know how to tell the children. Canine distemper can infect humans, but not if you have had measles or been immunized against it. All of us had either had measles, which is a related virus, or had been inoculated against measles and were protected, so I was not concerned for our health.
I couldn't be certain that Wags had distemper and planned to take him to a veterinarian as soon as I could arrange for time off from work. But when I came home from work, Wags no longer wagged his tail and there were signs of diarrhea wherever he had been. I never got to take poor little Wags to the veterinarian. He died that night. Despite our children's pleas for a backyard burial, we contacted the animal control folk who took Wags body away. A backyard burial could have transmitted the disease to other unvaccinated animals.
If you care about your dog friend, be sure to have a veterinarian examine him or her as soon as possible and immunized against canine diseases. If you no longer want a canine friend, please don't just turn the dog loose in the streets. Find a farmer who needs another dog on the farm or find a lonely person who needs a friend and introduce them. It is immoral to be cruel to animals (or people).
Scraps
We hadn't got over Wags' death when my Sister Ruth called to complain about the dog who lived with them who her husband Stanley had named Scraps. I think he named him Scraps because he had the notion that you can keep a dog inexpensively by feeding him table scraps.
While some table scraps may be acceptable, many come from food that may not even be good for humans let alone for dogs. Dogs need simple diets, low in fats and oils and high in protein. Their ancestors ate the meat from creatures they hunted, not dairy products, starches, vegetables, grains and beans. It is better to feed dogs that live with us canned or dry food made under supervision of veterinarians trained in canine nutrition than the kinds of things we eat.
Ruth's complaint was that her husband Stanley was not succeeding in civilizing Scraps.
"All he does is shout 'Bad Dog' and hit him with a rolled up newspaper. I don't know why he wants a dog to live with us anyway. I never saw him pat one or play with one like we always did and I hate to see Scraps cringe when he sees the rolled up newspaper. The other day Scraps chewed up a slipper while we were out and Stanley had a fit."
So Scraps came to live with us. Scraps was a handsome curly haired fellow of uncertain ancestry, mostly black but with a little white around his chest. He was very fearful when I picked up the morning newspaper and looked for a place to hide. I would not dream of hitting a dog but it took a long time for Scraps to become comfortable around newspapers.
It was soon easy to see what the problem was. Scraps was a highly energetic dog interested in everything around him. His inquisitiveness matched mine and his need to run and explore and excitement over what his explorations revealed were like my children's. We welcomed him into our family. We had many tugs of war with old towels and he was tireless in demanding that we throw an old tennis ball for him to fetch.
He more or less trained himself not to mess or pee in the house or at least it seemed that way to me. We never called him a bad dog or shouted at him. He quickly learned to sit and lie down when asked and to come when called. He did not even seriously object to being walked on a leash which our town required.
During the start up of my business, my colleagues and I had agreed not to take any vacations until the business could sustain them. Now we had reached that point. Edie's parents arranged for us to rent a cottage in the town of Port Henry, New York on the shore of Lake Champlain. It came with a rowboat. As soon as then nine-year old Mike launched the boat, he had Scraps for company. Except that every so often Scraps would jump out of the boat and swim to shore.
We visited with Edie's parents in Elizabethtown (E'town) who were some of my and the children's favorite people. They always welcomed us cordially and put themselves out for us. I thought of Edie's Dad, Sascha as a valuable friend. Especially, since he had a way with dogs, always greeting them on his rounds, he being the town's doctor and Edie's mother Manya its dentist.
Scraps came with us of course. He made himself comfortable in the woodshed at night. Daytimes we would frolic in the Bouquet River which flowed alongside the property. But Scraps did not have much knowledge of or sense about skunks. I think he thought of them as cats that had to be chased. Thus it was that one lovely summer evening a skunk came by on its rounds. Scraps gave chase. The results announced by his yelps were predictable. We were supposed to drive home in a day or so. The thought of the four of us sitting in the car with the ripe odor of skunk was not appealing.
Neighbors offered advice. "Wash him in Tomato Juice".
"No, that won't work, soap him down with lye."
"Soak him in a detergent bath."
"Try one of those new-fangled enzyme cleaners."
I tried tomato juice. That mess did not work. I disregarded the suggestion to use lye. I wanted to stop the smell not kill Scraps. I soaked the poor fellow in a detergent bath interspersing washes with clear water and detergent. It hardly worked. Finally I covered Scraps' eyes and sprayed him with the strongest underarm deodorant that Stevens Drug Store carried. Spray and wash, spray and wash until the stink was almost tolerable. We drove the nearly 300 miles home with the windows open. I sprayed the inside of the car with deodorant.
Next trip to E'town, I thought about the wonderful times I had roamed the mountains with Shep as my companion. I thought it might be fun for Scraps and me to climb Giant Mountain. I made it to the summit and down in one effort. But Scraps climbed and came down at least five times, running after every creature we encountered.
One of the farmers who lived in the vicinity observed how Scraps loved to run free. He suggested that keeping a dog like Scraps in a suburban town was unfair and that he really belonged on a farm. He talked to Scraps and it was soon evident that they had established a relationship. I would not take the money he offered for Scraps, but simply said goodbye to my friend.
dog stories for kids
Human cruelty to and neglect of dogs is a paradigm for the cruelty that humans exhibit to each other. Of course not all of us are cruel to and neglect dogs and not all of us are cruel to each other. But there is enough to go around as any student of the bible or victims of demagogues and racists can attest.
Wags was just such a victim of human callousness and neglect. Our circumstances from the time I came home from the war to the time of which I am writing made having a canine friend live with us too difficult to extend the care to which a dog is entitled. But our two older children were of an age where they wanted to have a dog live with us. So when our daughter June brought home a wet, cold, stray puppy and begged to have him live with us, we gave in.
The puppy was hungry and thirsty and had obviously been put out to fend for himself. June named him Wags because of the rapid tail wagging that any friendly word elicited.
Wags had been with us just a few days and we were preparing to get him licensed and examined by a veterinarian. But we wanted to feed him up a little because his ribs showed through his coat. We gave him quarters in our warm finished basement because he had been so cold. June made him a bed of old towels and set aside a dedicated water and food dish.
I came home from work one evening and went down to visit with Wags. When I stroked him, I realized that he was shivering despite the heat in the basement that had me perspiring. We had a rectal thermometer in the house and I took Wags' temperature. It was about 104 °F. A healthy dog's temperature should be about 101 °F. I suspected distemper, a very contagious viral disease that is very often fatal. I didn't know how to tell the children. Canine distemper can infect humans, but not if you have had measles or been immunized against it. All of us had either had measles, which is a related virus, or had been inoculated against measles and were protected, so I was not concerned for our health.
I couldn't be certain that Wags had distemper and planned to take him to a veterinarian as soon as I could arrange for time off from work. But when I came home from work, Wags no longer wagged his tail and there were signs of diarrhea wherever he had been. I never got to take poor little Wags to the veterinarian. He died that night. Despite our children's pleas for a backyard burial, we contacted the animal control folk who took Wags body away. A backyard burial could have transmitted the disease to other unvaccinated animals.
If you care about your dog friend, be sure to have a veterinarian examine him or her as soon as possible and immunized against canine diseases. If you no longer want a canine friend, please don't just turn the dog loose in the streets. Find a farmer who needs another dog on the farm or find a lonely person who needs a friend and introduce them. It is immoral to be cruel to animals (or people).
Scraps
We hadn't got over Wags' death when my Sister Ruth called to complain about the dog who lived with them who her husband Stanley had named Scraps. I think he named him Scraps because he had the notion that you can keep a dog inexpensively by feeding him table scraps.
While some table scraps may be acceptable, many come from food that may not even be good for humans let alone for dogs. Dogs need simple diets, low in fats and oils and high in protein. Their ancestors ate the meat from creatures they hunted, not dairy products, starches, vegetables, grains and beans. It is better to feed dogs that live with us canned or dry food made under supervision of veterinarians trained in canine nutrition than the kinds of things we eat.
Ruth's complaint was that her husband Stanley was not succeeding in civilizing Scraps.
"All he does is shout 'Bad Dog' and hit him with a rolled up newspaper. I don't know why he wants a dog to live with us anyway. I never saw him pat one or play with one like we always did and I hate to see Scraps cringe when he sees the rolled up newspaper. The other day Scraps chewed up a slipper while we were out and Stanley had a fit."
So Scraps came to live with us. Scraps was a handsome curly haired fellow of uncertain ancestry, mostly black but with a little white around his chest. He was very fearful when I picked up the morning newspaper and looked for a place to hide. I would not dream of hitting a dog but it took a long time for Scraps to become comfortable around newspapers.
It was soon easy to see what the problem was. Scraps was a highly energetic dog interested in everything around him. His inquisitiveness matched mine and his need to run and explore and excitement over what his explorations revealed were like my children's. We welcomed him into our family. We had many tugs of war with old towels and he was tireless in demanding that we throw an old tennis ball for him to fetch.
He more or less trained himself not to mess or pee in the house or at least it seemed that way to me. We never called him a bad dog or shouted at him. He quickly learned to sit and lie down when asked and to come when called. He did not even seriously object to being walked on a leash which our town required.
During the start up of my business, my colleagues and I had agreed not to take any vacations until the business could sustain them. Now we had reached that point. Edie's parents arranged for us to rent a cottage in the town of Port Henry, New York on the shore of Lake Champlain. It came with a rowboat. As soon as then nine-year old Mike launched the boat, he had Scraps for company. Except that every so often Scraps would jump out of the boat and swim to shore.
We visited with Edie's parents in Elizabethtown (E'town) who were some of my and the children's favorite people. They always welcomed us cordially and put themselves out for us. I thought of Edie's Dad, Sascha as a valuable friend. Especially, since he had a way with dogs, always greeting them on his rounds, he being the town's doctor and Edie's mother Manya its dentist.
Scraps came with us of course. He made himself comfortable in the woodshed at night. Daytimes we would frolic in the Bouquet River which flowed alongside the property. But Scraps did not have much knowledge of or sense about skunks. I think he thought of them as cats that had to be chased. Thus it was that one lovely summer evening a skunk came by on its rounds. Scraps gave chase. The results announced by his yelps were predictable. We were supposed to drive home in a day or so. The thought of the four of us sitting in the car with the ripe odor of skunk was not appealing.
Neighbors offered advice. "Wash him in Tomato Juice".
"No, that won't work, soap him down with lye."
"Soak him in a detergent bath."
"Try one of those new-fangled enzyme cleaners."
I tried tomato juice. That mess did not work. I disregarded the suggestion to use lye. I wanted to stop the smell not kill Scraps. I soaked the poor fellow in a detergent bath interspersing washes with clear water and detergent. It hardly worked. Finally I covered Scraps' eyes and sprayed him with the strongest underarm deodorant that Stevens Drug Store carried. Spray and wash, spray and wash until the stink was almost tolerable. We drove the nearly 300 miles home with the windows open. I sprayed the inside of the car with deodorant.
Next trip to E'town, I thought about the wonderful times I had roamed the mountains with Shep as my companion. I thought it might be fun for Scraps and me to climb Giant Mountain. I made it to the summit and down in one effort. But Scraps climbed and came down at least five times, running after every creature we encountered.
One of the farmers who lived in the vicinity observed how Scraps loved to run free. He suggested that keeping a dog like Scraps in a suburban town was unfair and that he really belonged on a farm. He talked to Scraps and it was soon evident that they had established a relationship. I would not take the money he offered for Scraps, but simply said goodbye to my friend.
dog stories for kids