Going to the Dogs
Rigby (yellow) and Penny (black) are Lab wannabes that we rescued two years ago. Their actual parentage is Lab and pick-a-random-breed. Very sociable, they love the local “dog park,” so designated as it boasts fenced areas where dog owners can let their beloved Fido run sans leash. Of note is how well these various canines interact.
Today our dogs ran with a Weimeraner, a Pit Bull, two Golden Retrievers, a Great Pyrenees and about five other mixed breeds including a sweet little something-or-other that was shaped like a Dachshund with the fur, ears and coloring of a Springer Spaniel (with red bows tied atop her ears she made quite the fashion statement.) They all sniffed butts, licked each other’s doggie drool, and played chase. No fights broke out. To dogs, another dog is just a dog. They identify each other by scent, not by their AKC certificate, color of their fur, or the religion of their owner. Rigby and Penny didn’t give a woof that Daisy is a Pit Bull and that Pit Bulls have a bad rep. Daisy was just a fellow pooch, and she was mighty fun to play with.
Seems to me dogs have a pretty great view of things.
I don’t mean to imply that I want to exchange handshakes for butt sniffs; but it would be nice if we humans could accept each other the way dogs do and revel in our sameness instead of always looking to our differences. Considering the state of the world these days, maybe going to the dogs isn’t such a bad thing.