Dogs
This is responsible dog-relinquishment, when a puppy grows to that gangling, biting, fuel-injected energy state, and the owner discovers they cannot handle the dog. Not dumping the dog out in the wild. Not dumping it at the city pound, where they might say "Oh yes we'll find it a home" as you hear the frantic barking of the full cages in back, but as soon as you're gone, they put to death owner-relinquished dogs.
This was not a case of "Oh, that cute pup in the window, let's buy it!" and then getting rid of it when it got bigger, as happens too often. The owners here came to the hard realization that being over sixty is not a time for the intense energy commitment in the kind of good training that benefits both dog and family, exacerbated by a tragic situation for one of the partners.
Another dog story.
I picked up to read (while stirring at the stove) the C.S. Lewis bio by Carpenter and Hooper, opened to the middle, and lit on this.
The context was dogs--Mrs. Moore, the woman Lewis took into his home after an exchanged promise with a fellow soldier in the trenches of World War I, might have been problematical (well, she was) but she had a soft spot for dogs, adopting strays. Her favorite was Mr. Papworth, a mutt with terrier predominating, according to the bio.
From the text:
Mr. Papworth, Who died in 1937, became a bit queer in his old age - his chief oddity being that he would not eat if he were watched. Eventually the only way discovered for getting food inside him was by what might be called the Orpheus-Eurydice method. This required that Lewis walk down the village street with a bowl of food, followed by Mr. Papworth, who would eat whatever Lewis threw over his shoulder. What made this method Orphean was that, should Lewis look around to see what happened, Mr. Papworth would give him a fierce look and ignore the food. Owen Barfield once followed behind the dog and watched, as did many amused villagers, Lewis feed Mr. Papworth his peripatetic dinner.
Cutting off comments except at link, as it is far too hot to deal with fifty plus spams. (I sure hope this wave--spam and heat--ends soon.)
This was not a case of "Oh, that cute pup in the window, let's buy it!" and then getting rid of it when it got bigger, as happens too often. The owners here came to the hard realization that being over sixty is not a time for the intense energy commitment in the kind of good training that benefits both dog and family, exacerbated by a tragic situation for one of the partners.
Another dog story.
I picked up to read (while stirring at the stove) the C.S. Lewis bio by Carpenter and Hooper, opened to the middle, and lit on this.
The context was dogs--Mrs. Moore, the woman Lewis took into his home after an exchanged promise with a fellow soldier in the trenches of World War I, might have been problematical (well, she was) but she had a soft spot for dogs, adopting strays. Her favorite was Mr. Papworth, a mutt with terrier predominating, according to the bio.
From the text:
Mr. Papworth, Who died in 1937, became a bit queer in his old age - his chief oddity being that he would not eat if he were watched. Eventually the only way discovered for getting food inside him was by what might be called the Orpheus-Eurydice method. This required that Lewis walk down the village street with a bowl of food, followed by Mr. Papworth, who would eat whatever Lewis threw over his shoulder. What made this method Orphean was that, should Lewis look around to see what happened, Mr. Papworth would give him a fierce look and ignore the food. Owen Barfield once followed behind the dog and watched, as did many amused villagers, Lewis feed Mr. Papworth his peripatetic dinner.
Cutting off comments except at link, as it is far too hot to deal with fifty plus spams. (I sure hope this wave--spam and heat--ends soon.)