Sit, Stay and Read

about good dogs and their people

Archive for the category “More Dogs”

Ah yes

Beware the Beagle

Emily Yoffe, Illustration Hudson Christie

Emily Yoffe’s account of life with a beagle, New York Times Feb 21, 2015
Illustration: Hudson Christie


Dogs of War

Pupppies playing at Lackland AFB.

Photo: Adam Ferguson


Bianca, a dogo argentino was barely over a year old when she found herself back at the Miami-Dade Animal Shelter for the eighth time. She was an exuberant young gal, trying her best to to be a puppy but she had grown large enough that most people couldn’t figure out how to handle her. She was rescued from the Shelter once again, the very morning she was scheduled to be euthanized.

For six months, she lived the good life with a basset sidekick in North Carolina, and the two of them got along famously but Bianca needed a forever home. An oil rancher in Oklahoma heard about her, felt like he could use another dog and brought her into the fold. She loves the ranching life and revels in the company of about a dozen other dogs (count them!). But the best part is that she gets to ride shot-gun with her adoptive dad while they cruise the 400 acre ranch in his Ford truck, supervising daily maintenance on the eleven oil derricks and the occasional transient bovine .


The Worst Dog Challenge

I’m reblogging this a bit late but it’s very funny, particularly having witnessed those “what was he thinking” moments and those quasi-guilty looks. Thank you, Going to the Dogs, for posting this.

Going To The Dogs

For all of my fellow dog bloggers, here’s a challenge for this month, inspired by one of my favorite dog sites, (sorry, since I am not “techy”, I can’t get the “add a link” thingy to work in that cool way the rest of you can – pffft!):


Please post a photo (or two or three) and tag it “Dog Of Shame” (so we can find each other) of your dog’s worst crime against, say, your new love seat or roll of toilet paper or shoes. Even if you have the perfect pooch, perhaps that pooch has a past and evidence of that past will qualify you to join the challenge.

In this case, nobody wins or loses anything, but we can have some fun. And while you’re at it, have a look at Dog Shaming (especially on Fridays when they post adoptable dogs).

And let me know when…

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Jack blog

JACK and a Boxer friend were found wandering around one of the more affluent suburbs of our city. The two of them had been turned loose, the result of a domestic dispute. Jack was a Black and Tan Coonhound mix and a very smart dog. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had determined the most fortuitous route for a couple of outcasts to follow in order to increase their chances of being taken in by tenderhearted people. He still wore a leather collar with a brass plate displaying his name and phone number, confirming that he wasn’t some sort of disreputable cur. As he may have planned, he and his sidekick were corralled by my generous, dog-loving friend who planned to hand him over to a nearby Black and Tan rescue group. She asked us to keep him overnight and he stayed with us for about 15 years.

He was a beautiful dog but quite serious, the antithesis of Sophie, our incorrigible Basset-Beagle. His athleticism was impressive. He had almost a six foot vertical leap and would throw himself up the trunk of any tree that seemed likely to be harboring raccoons or squirrels. Watching him leap and bay as he went about trying to conquer those trees was a source of endless fascination. His voice was robust and deep, a voice that would carry for miles, a desirable trait in a hunting dog. When Jack and Sophie got loose, after being taunted by some small furry creature that needed to be chased down, their clamoring could drown out a police cruiser’s siren. Besides the volume, it sounded like something you’d hear in a mountain hollar, not in an urban residential neighborhood. It was beautiful but hilarious in its incongruity and it never failed to crack me up, forcing me to stop, doubled-over with laughter but still cursing as I ran after them, their leashes slapping my legs.

Veterans Day 2013

Thank you, veterans and military dogs.

History of Military Use of Dogs

At the time of Pearl Harbor, the sled dog was the only working type to be found in the Army. . . Even though it had utilized a few dogs in minor roles earlier, it was not until World War II that they were used to any significant extent as auxiliaries to our fighting men when trained for sentry, messenger, scout, sled and pack duties. 

The extraordinary characteristics of the dog — acuteness of his senses, his docility, his affection for man, his watchfulness, and his speed — enable him to be of great value for military purposes. 

— excerpt, Dogs and National Defense, Anna M. Waller,
Department of the Army, Office of Quartermaster General, 1958

According to the United States War Dogs Association, more than 30 breeds were accepted into the fledgling war dog program during WWII. Not surprisingly, Bassets didn’t make the cut.

Dude from Down East

This dog will hunt . . . for fish.

This dog will hunt . . .
for fish.

Tawinkey, formerly of LA

Even though she’s outta LA, Tawinkey is a Southern dog at heart. She was born Twinkey three years ago, but a mis-spelling by her Southern people resulted in a multisyllabic rendition of her name. Twinkey became Tawinkey. Ed: The addition of an extra syllable or two is not uncommon in the Southern US, as in the name Chris spoken as kuh-ree-us.

Tawinkey and her people moved further south, to Mexico. When she’s not busy with her watch-dog duties, she’s learning a bit of Spanish. She understands “Es un buen perro.”

A troika of Field Spaniels

Left to right: Robbie, Andrew and Cadi

Robbie, Andrew and Cadi

One of these beauties emerged from a sickly, bare-boned rescue dog.


Although JUNIOR‘s person is a veterinarian, she had been ambivalent for years about adopting a dog. To avoid having to make a decision, she established what seemed like an unattainable set of criteria for any potential canine family member. The dog had to be an apricot toy poodle puppy, a stray boy-dog who liked to hunt and fish. Unlikely as it seems, this perfect puppy found his way into her life. He was a day old when he and his mother were rescued from a hoarder who was keeping almost 140 dogs in a tractor trailer. The good news was that he and his fellow detainees were rescued, the bonus was that he came from good stock, his parents were show dogs.

Junior is a beauty and although I can’t speak to his prowess in field and stream, he does seem to enjoy his regular hunting and fishing junkets. Some sort of complex family tradition determined his name and despite the caption under his photo, he is not named for Junior Johnson, but for Dale Earnhardt, Jr. While this may seem like a subtle distinction, it is significant to folks in the South. Regardless, Junior would do either one of those drivers proud.

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