Downstrike/dogs

When the Going gets RUFF, the Tuff get Ruffing!

Somepuppy had to get out of the dudeling's way!

When in California, stop and smell the poppies!

Me am a boneheaded wittle puppy.
Me have nuffing in my noggin but bone.
Me do all my finking wiff my nose and ears.
Dis is how me get a fought to fall from one ear to dah ozzer one,
So I can fink some more.
Don't waff at me!
Finking is hard work for a puppy!

From the page:

'Walking a pit bull is an interesting experience. No matter how happy-go-lucky and friendly that individual dog is, lots of people cross the street to steer clear. Some people are repelled by pit bulls, some by large dogs and others by all dogs. But those concerns go out the window if you happen to be walking a 14-week-old pit bull puppy, as I recently did. The little wiggly pup was a people magnet. It turns out that we can't help but love puppies, even pit bull puppies. There's just something about them.

We're simply hard-wired to be attracted to the little creatures. After all, their large foreheads and big, round eyes are reminiscent of human babies. Clearly, we're predisposed to care for babies. "We're a nurturing species. We need to be," agrees animal behaviorist Patricia McConnell. "Our babies require a great deal of care for many years. When we see these cues, we can't help but respond with a rush of a hormone called oxytocin. We generalize our feelings to other species -- including dogs.

• We're hard-wired to be attracted to the little creatures.

" Believe it or not, that generalization in scientific parlance is called the "aw" factor. We respond with lots of smiles, a softer and higher voice, and we tend to actually say "aw."'

Mwe-ew!

From the page:

"Boomer Jack was an independent black bob-tailed dog of uncertain ancestry and no fixed address who appeared in the 1910s, adapting the Northwestern Pacific railroad as his home line. He rode the rails between Trinidad and the San Francisco Bay, and at one point rode cross-country and back. Over the span of 14 years, he was seen everywhere from Blue Lake to Marin. He rode the Eureka streetcars, and he mooched for food on the streets of Arcata. In fact, it was said that he knew the routes of the streetcars in Eureka, and could locate particular railroad men's houses despite the fact they were located far from the train station.

What set Boomer Jack apart was his sense of independence and freedom, characteristics that the men of the Northwestern Pacific who fed and cared for him admired. Jack, unlike other railroad dogs of legend, belonged to no one man. He would ride the rails to a particular town, stay for a day or two and be on his way, never overstaying his welcome. He would even, on occasion, ride passenger trains. He ranged far and wide, even staying in a San Francisco hotel after being smuggled in by one of his railroad buddies. Eventually he was discovered and kicked out, but returned to the establishment later to lift his leg and leave his mark.

At one point Jack vanished, his whereabouts unknown. Some thought he had disappeared forever. Then the Northwestern Pacific home office received a telegram from some trainmen located in South Carolina, asking about a dog with a NWP badge on his collar. Boomer Jack had somehow made a cross-country train journey. Relieved that their mascot was still among the living, they wired instructions for his safe return to the West Coast. He was watched over by linemen along the way, and was returned safely back to his home line.

His tenacious instinct for travel continued even after he suffered a severe leg injury from a train fall. His accident elicited sympathy from up and down the line, and a fund was established to pay his medical bills. So much was raised that a bank account was opened up in his name in Eureka. His lame leg slowed him quite a bit, and as he aged he often needed help getting up into a cab. In 1926 in front of the Willits station, Jack was found lying peacefully on the ground by Bob Brown and his fellow workers. A small redwood coffin was fashioned, and he was buried in the switchyard."

Basic body language for children encountering possibly hostile dogs:

From the page:

"Although children will most often interact with their family's and neighbors' dogs, they need to know what to do should they encounter an unknown dog that is off leash and without a caregiver.

Teach children to avoid such dogs, not make direct eye contact with them and slowly and quietly walk away.  If a strange dog approaches, children should follow these tips:

• If walking, stop and stand still like a tree.
• If playing on the ground, lie still on the ground (like a log) with knees tucked into the stomach and hands over ears.
  
• If the child stays still and quiet, the dog will most likely just sniff the child and go away.
• Do not try to outrun a dog. Back away slowly from the dog instead."

My comments; if a dog threatens you:

• Lie down still on the ground, as describe above, but on your back, with your arms folded in front of your chest, as if your hands were paws.
• The dog will sniff you. Let it.
  
• The dog may put a front paw on you. Let it.
• Feel free to make whimpering noises if you like. You may very like to.
  
• Wait until the dog loses interest in you, then get up slowly and walk slowly away.
  

You just told the dog, "you're a big dog and I'm just a puppy, so please be nice to me."