New ‘hood. New mission: meet the dogs; map the dogs.
In the old hood, I had many favorites: dogs who loved me with equal enthusiasm, although the first dog I met, who lived up to her name, Scruffles, died in a house fire iset by her owner who’d just been charged with child abuse.
That’s the thing about dogs: they come with owners who need attention, too. Lupo was an imposing German Shepherd, who, sadly never really took to me but John(who we called Mr Lupo)loved to chat. Aspen the Husky mix would burst into a soulful howl, her ‘parents’ somewhat baffled that I found the dog more interesting than them. Atlas the Australian Shepard pup thought my hair was just a fun thing to mess with. Jade: a beauty of a Greyhound Great Dane mix made her owners aware of her feelings for me. Chimo, the black lab mix, was our house guest for a couple of nights. Daz was a sweet tempered bruiser with one blue and one green eye. For a while there were two Westies: Maud and Chip. And Ginger. Right smack next door, on the south side, a cockapoo; We had a special bond. As I did with Nate the big lumbering golden doodle.
And then our next door neighbors to the north – the ones we shared a mutual drive with – had huuuuuge house fire that lept across the driveway – melting the Jeep along the way – and gobbling our wooden decks.
After the fire everything changed in he the hood and due course, we decided that with insurance covering repairs, our house was never going to look better. We sold the house and all of our furniture. Move from west side to east side of Toronto. We decided to rent a furnished place, and found ourselves a 3 bedroom 4 bathroom house.
It’s magnificent. However, we left behind – no, I left behind – a community based on dogs in the hood.
I googled dog parks and found one within waking distance, down a flight of stairs. Actually, looking back, the description said: take the stairs. These stairs are equiv to 10 story house.
I knew I’d make it down…but coming up?
That first day: going down, I spotted two small determined dogs, one behind the other, leashed to their owner’s waist – a sandy haired man, looked in his forties. I took off my glasses to Make eye contact and prepared for the obligatory permission. Didn’t get a chance. “Cannot be petted. Hunters” he said the H in hunter with a back of the throat edge, like Challah. They are hunting dogs. I murmured my usual dog greeting: hello puppies – no matter the age – and we continued our separate opposite journeys.
I continued down down down into the lovely green ravine, with its babbling stream and beautiful smells. I went to the dog park. Not a dog in sight. No wonder: with all the nature around who’d want to be trapped on a gravel surface.
I began the trudge back. Up up up the stairs.
But then, on the way home from the stairs, I saw – coming towards me from a side street – a magnificent (but aren’t they all) Bouvier. I know at least one Bouvier who hates everyone. Mr B’s ’father’ always stops and lets me try to establish trust:’this helps me socialize him’. We both think it’s working because that side eye isn’t as much in evidence. I’ve also seen Mr B dog with a much less confident woman, who definitely gives me the side eye, when I shout out: ‘Is this the dog that hates everyone?’ But today’s Bouvier is a lovely lad, sill looking dapper at a whopping 12 years sold, let me have my way with him with patience and understanding.
Back on the street I see, Pinocchio (from a litter with each dog named for a Disney character) He’s the size of a Great Dane, but looking like a cow with his black and white markings. He loves me so much that if we see each other across the street, one of us has to cross over. “Oh look, Pinocchio” says his father “She’s coming across the street to see you.” We (Pinocchio and I) exchange happy sounds.
Betty is an overlarge Border Collie, whose father tries to get me to his church for redemption but I focus on Betty. Jordy’s another over large Border Collie who barks with glee when he sees me and barks with outrage when I depart.
I’ve now known Cal the Golden Doodle through his mother’s first and second pregnancy. When Cal sees me, he comes to a brief stand-still and quivers with happiness before bounding over, sometimes yanking the leash from his mother/father’s hands. And we can’t forget Tyberius who sits imperiously on the porch, a large German Shepherd mix, who humors me while waiting for his tiny next-door pal, Becks (short for Beckham). Finn the fabulous Bouvier is the pooch kissing my ear in the picture .
I am shall we say, doggedly pursuing my new community.
