TheBanyanTree: My dog's autobiography

[Monique Young]

Yeah. Go figger. She's putting up her own website to give advice on, and
this is her autobiography. Autographed pictures available by request.


All About Me
By Honey

You may be asking yourselves what qualifies me to give advice. That's a good
question, and I'll start by saying that I've experienced much of what is
wrong with the world today. I was born out of wedlock, a mixed relationship,
raised without a mother or a father, abused by my caretakers, made pregnant
by a shiftless rogue who left as soon as I told him the news, left homeless
on the streets of Tacoma while I was pregnant. And as for addiction issues,
well, I am rather fond of those Milk Bones. Need I say more? I had to deal
with these circumstances with a mixture of resolve, forbearance, and humor,
and while I would have rather foregone the painful facts of my existence,
they are what has helped to make me the wise advisor I am today. 

It began with the mating of a Chow Chow with a Golden Retriever, though
which was mom and which was dad has always been a mystery to me. Taken from
my parents at a young age, I never had a chance to get to know them, and
even when I was there my siblings demanded their attention. My present
caretaker says that I'm either a Golden Chow or a Chow Retriever. I much
prefer the former to the latter, since the latter sounds as if I retrieve
Chows, which I have no intention of doing. She also says that the mix means
I'm still a bit testy, likely to bite anyone who gets fresh or threatens me,
but since I'm also a retriever I do it with a smile on my face and rather
politely. Some of my victims may disagree with that assessment, but I don't
really care.

I was barely eight weeks old when I was sent to live with a miserable family
who did not understand the true meaning of the words, "The dog is in
charge," and did not care to learn, as became obvious during my repeated
attempts to make them see reason. I'm sure that, like my birth parents, they
did the best they could, but I say that knowing it makes me look generous
and forgiving, when in fact I'm still quite angry with them and hope they
are beset by a pack of ferocious dogs. 

Time passed slowly in that household, much too slow for me, but no matter
what I did, time would not pass faster. In a perhaps misguided attempt to
escape the prison that my caretakers called "home," I allowed a rather
scruffy dog to get close to me, too close, and I soon found myself pregnant.
While overjoyed at the prospect of bringing puppies into this world, the
eventual abandonment I suffered overshadowed that. The father of my puppies
abandoned me, then the family I lived with, and I found myself alone on the
streets of Tacoma, forced to forage for food, to ask for help from
strangers, to avail myself of my good looks and sweet disposition in the
hopes that someone would find me intriguing enough to take home.

No one did, but I was found by a rescue organization that made regular
sweeps through the neighborhood. I didn't want to go at first, having gained
a great distrust of people, but they persisted, kindly at first, then more
forcefully. I acquiesced, and later became grateful for the opportunity to
give birth in a comfortable environment. However, they placed me in a German
Shepherd rescue shelter, and while I was glad for to have a roof over my
head, the presence of all those Shepherds was a bit frightening at times.
I've never gotten along with Shepherds very well, and when I gave birth,
they were all crowding around as if it were some sort of fascinating event
they had to be a part of. I delivered four puppies, and the Shepherds gave
me a hearty round of applause, so I suppose it wasn't such a bad thing after
all. Instead of having just a mother, my puppies had concerned and
interested aunts and uncles, albeit Shepherds, and I felt welcomed into
their world.

It wasn't to last however. I wasn't allowed to keep my puppies, though I
submitted a request through all the formal channels (i.e., I growled at
anyone who came near my puppies). They were put up for adoption, and since
they looked so much like me, they were quickly claimed by caretakers who
hopefully have taken good care of them since.

I was moved to another rescue shelter, one where all the dogs were allowed
to run loose together, and while the freedom was refreshing at first, I soon
found the different cliques and gangs rather offsetting. I kept to myself as
much as I could, though there were several rather persistent and annoying
mutts who kept trying to drag me into their circle. I refused, politely at
first, then with a bit more impatience. 

This was my life, and I despaired of finding a good home to live in, and
caretakers who would accede to my every wish. I knew this was the way it was
supposed to be, but I felt so far removed from that world that I wasn't sure
what to do, or how to go about realizing my dreams. I suspect I was
suffering from a sort of depression. 

Then one day my entire life changed. A sucker came to see me, and I knew
right away she was somebody who could be pushed around, who could be made to
see things my way, and who would spoil me as I should be spoiled. I was
standoffish at first, playing hard to get; it's far more rewarding when they
keep working at it. The whole friendly dog thing is highly overrated, if you
ask me.

I moved in with this caretaker and her husband. Since then I've managed to
do a creditable job of training them, and have even made them sign wills
leaving everything to me. They share custody of me now, giving me two places
to live when I want a change of scenery. Life is good now, and so I have
decided to share the lessons I have learned with others, and to help those
who have may have problems either similar to mine or completely dissimilar.
It doesn't really matter. If you have a problem, I have an answer.