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Don’t Touch My Dog!!!!!
If you’re not in the mood for a rant, close this window and come back later because I’m mad as hell and I’m going to blow off some steam!
Those who know me know all about my Border Collie/Australian Shepherd/Great Pyrenees mix, Rudy. He’ll be 10 months old tomorrow and he’s just an 86-pound ball of love wrapped in fur.
He loves other dogs. He loves people. He even loves cats. He thinks they’re really small, strange-looking dogs that bark funny. He lives to love, to please and to play.
Living in a condo, the local dog park is Rudy’s heaven on Earth. It’s where he gets to do what he does, run, wrestle and play. He loves it so much he holds his morning poo until we get there. Seriously, not kidding. We take him twice a day most days because, given his breed and his youth, a walk in the woods just won’t suffice.
Oh, and he’s a bit of a humper. He means nothing by it, aside from a show of dominance. He’s an equal opportunity humper, male, female, doesn’t matter. It’s a dog thing. It’s a canine social ordering thing they do. They sort it. Fixed dogs do it, unaltered dogs do it. Rudy, on vet recommendation, is still unaltered. He wants to wait until he’s over a year old.
