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Welcome to Rover, SPEAK!

Editor’s note: Rover, SPEAK! is a series of articles written to appeal to kids and adults alike. Topics will include pet behavior, care, history and trivia. While some topics may be elementary, others will provide information more obscure. All will be presented, humorously, from Rover’s point of view. Check back soon for the first article. Subsequent articles will appear about once a month.

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First Perspectives

When the boss first asked me to write a series of articles for the kennel website I was a bit skeptical.  How credible would that be?  He told me, people learn a lot about their pets, dogs in particular, from the writings and comments from other …..people.  He suggested it might be interesting for people to read about their pets from a dog’s perspective.  I thought: if I did that, it could be funny and it could make people look pretty silly.

Not a good idea.  They say you shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds you.

Ironically, the boss also offered me an extra treat daily if I would do it.  I’m in.

My first article then is going to give you a little background about myself.

I was born in a litter of six pups. Mom was mostly a Great Dane.

I never knew dad.  This is pretty typical of dogs; few of us ever get to know our dads.  Mom described him as an ornery little Chihuahua who wouldn’t take no for an answer, which is also pretty typical for dogs.  She sounded a little remorseful so I suggested maybe she confused dad as a Chihuahua when he was really a Miniature Pinscher.    And mom said, “It doesn’t matter what kind of dog he was, heck, it could have been a Saint Bernard, they all act the same; they all think they’re studs”  She began to lick me behind the ear and said, “I hope you don’t act that way when you grow up. Promise me you’ll treat the bitches in your life with respect.”

Well, mom would be proud of me.  I treat all other dogs with respect.  I just don’t have the desire to be ornery. In fact, I don’t have any desire at all. I wonder if it had anything to do with that trip to the vet when I was young.  Oh well, I don’t remember much of it except I had a hard time walking for a couple of days.

After eight weeks I was taken from mom as were my siblings before me.  I was the last to go.

You might say I was the runt of the litter but actually I was the biggest, clumsiest of all.  The runt of the litter is usually the smallest.  If you ask me, my five siblings were all runts.   One thing’s for sure: they resembled dad a lot more than I did.   I favored mom and was viewed as just a big dufus.  No one really wanted me.

Finally, after my siblings were gone, a very nice (and handsome) man came by and adopted me.  I didn’t really want to leave mom but that’s the way it is for us dogs.  He owns a boarding kennel and he made me feel right at home.  He gives me fresh water several times a day and gives me really good food.  I used to enjoy mom’s milk, but it was getting old and my palette has become more sophisticated.  I feel like I’m in dog heaven now.  I meet new friends all the time and there are plenty of other dogs to play with.

Besides me, there are two other full time residents at the boss’s kennel.  Both are girl dogs, Molly and Daisy.

Molly has super high energy, can’t keep her mouth shut and thinks she’s a Border Collie.  The boss’s wife rescued her from an unwanted home.  When she took Molly to the vet and asked what breed Molly is, the vet just responded: “what breed do you want her to be?”  So everyone is fine with letting her think she’s a Border Collie but she’s actually just a mutt like me.

On the other hand, Daisy is an American Kennel Club certified Rough Collie and she’s proud of it.  Attractive and a little uppity, Daisy doesn’t think her poop stinks.  But then, most dogs don’t. She is always trying to be politically correct.  For instance, when I refer to Molly as a mutt or even myself for that matter, she gets all upset and says it’s a derogatory term and used by junkyard dogs.  She will not use the term; she calls it the “m” word.  Daisy says that the proper term to use is “mixed breed.”  So, to try to keep the peace, I don’t say mutt much, at least not when she’s around.

I once screwed up and used the term “cross breed” to describe myself and she had a tizzy fit about that.

She said, “a cross breed is a dog that is bred specifically to join traits found in two different breeds.  You don’t even know who your father is; you’re the product of an incidental one night stand.”

Well, that hurt!

I guess the difference between cross breeding and mixed breeding is, one is arranged and the other is just a spur of the moment kind of thing.

I’m not even going to bring up selective breeding.  Daisy will spend hours describing the terrific characteristics her mom and dad shared to be sure she inherited them.

Nevertheless, Daisy and I get along really well most of the time.  When she gets a little persnickety about things like me using the “m” word, I have to remind her not to be the “B” word, which technically she is anyway.  But it usually shuts her up.


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