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Dog daze in the south again
Down here, we call it the "dog days." Science types say the dog days don't officially start until Sirius, the so-called "Dog Star," is in alignment with something else in the sky, maybe the Dog Planet, Pluto. Baloney. Southerners know the dog days aren't measured by the location of stars but by how many dogs stay under the porch all day. But this summer, dogs have an even worse problem to deal with. That's because some organization whose name escapes me has just released a list that will hurt some dogs worse than hot weather and pump up some pooches that don't deserve it. The list allegedly identifies the ten smartest and ten dumbest breeds of dog. This is shameful, not to mention unscientific and tacky. In case you haven't seen the list yet, the Ten Dumbest, in order from 10th to dumbest overall are: basset hound, beagle, mastiff, pekingese, bloodhound, borzoi, chow, bulldog, basenji and the dumbest of all ... the Afghan hound, which, according to the list makers, is the Paris Hilton of poochdom. Smartest dogs, from 10th to top dog are: Australian cattle dog, rottweiler, papillon, labrador retriever, shetland sheep dog, doberman pinscher, golden retriever, German shepherd, poodle and at number one ... the border collie. Pit bulls weren't mentioned. They probably ate the judges. Fine. But you don't have to have to be a Westminster Kennel Club judge to know that one other breed of dog actually takes top honors in both the "best" and "worst" categories. I'm talking about the All- American mutt. Ask anybody who has one and they'll tell you mutts range from the top of the heap to the bottom of the barrel, regardless of how well they do on canine IQ tests. My first mutt was a classic example of "bad dog." When he was just a few weeks old, I talked the folks into letting me keep him so the old guy down the street wouldn't drown him. I named him Pickles. If I'd known him longer I would have added "Dill" to his name. That critter was a total sourpuss. He was like Attila the Hun on four legs. He chewed everything he got his mouth on, barked at anything that moved and was so stupid that when it rained he sat on top of his doghouse. Losing Pickles wasn't painful at all. I had several post-Pickles dogs, but my last was the definitely the best. His name was Biscuit and he was special. Biscuit had the disposition of a saint, the speed of a rocket and a natural talent for getting his way. My son picked him up at the school bus stop when he saw Biscuit shivering in a snowstorm. After a few hours in a cozy cardboard box on the carport, my son asked if Biscuit could stay "just one night" in the house. The dog never spent another night outside. Nobody minded at all. He was great company, fine looking and as loving as a dog can be. He was so sweet you couldn't even be mad at him when he ransacked the underwear drawer or ate all the Easter eggs. My pooches weren't brand names, but they displayed the absolute best - and worst - of the dog world. When it comes to choosing dogs, you don't need to consult a list. You just need to pick up a mutt, hang on tight and see what happens. Either way, you'll be surprised. And that's half the joy of owning a dog.
Send your e-mail comments to: alex@newnan.com.
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