Stories from a Dog Boarding Kennel

Many of you may know that I own and operate a small dog boarding facility. Well, I have been doing this very entertaining job for upwards of twenty years now. One of the more rewarding aspects of kennel boarding is seeing the variety of breeds that come through my door. Not only do you get a broad spectrum in appearances, but quite a variety of temperaments, even within the same breed. Many of these dogs I just LOVE to see coming for a visit, while others, be it very few, I would rather they stayed at home. But, for the most part, we enjoy their antics, their visit with me and all the entertainment that they bring into my life. The nice part is that I can send them back home to their own families when the vacation is over.

People say how “bad” terriers can be and I do get dogs coming in that are supposed to be the worst kind, like the Jack Russell Terriers. This breed, and I do know about them, as I did show and breed them for twenty years, is one that wears a beautiful halo most of the time, but at least once a day, they let it drop to the ground, step on it, and toss it aside. The next time you look, they are sitting there all pretty with that halo in place as innocent as you please. Right now, I have “Sammy,” a new boarder to our kennel, who is an absolute treat. He runs outside for his morning business, while I mop out his run, fix his bed and breakfast and call him back in. After he has finished his business he will sit in the grassy yard watching me, cute as can be, then he’ll suddenly fly like the wind right at me and charge, skidding his feet around the corner, jumping back into his run. It’s like he can’t wait to get back inside, but not until he has thought about it for a couple of minutes first. Funny thing is he does this routine each and every time that he is on his turn outdoors. Once in his own run, he will go all the way into the outer part of his area, until I have totally finished ALL the dogs before he comes back to his bed and wags his tail at me until I give him a cookie.

Once in a while, I have a visit from the little Norfolk Terrier, “Chelsea”, who is all of 10 lbs soaking wet and about 8 inches off the ground. She is ALL TERRIER. She thinks that she is bossing each and every dog in the kennel, regardless if it’s a Chihuahua or a Great Dane. She is let out of her run for her turn outside and she stops at each kennel gate just to give every other dog a little growl and bark along the way. She seems to be telling them, “Don’t forget, I’m the boss around here” as she passes by. Yet, on the way back in after her outdoor time, she charges like the wind back to her bed, where she knows her breakfast is waiting. She guzzles it down like a vacuum cleaner, just in case the neighbour might take a notion to eat it first. They of course, cannot get to each other’s bed or dishes, but Chelsea thinks it’s safer if it’s totally out of sight and tucked into her belly.

I also have as a regular client a huge Staffordshire Terrier cross who looks like she could rip anything apart. She strolls in and out of the kennel to her turn outside, resembling a large, round barrel on legs. Yet, when one of the smaller dogs gives her so much as a bark as she passes their gate, her ears go down, this scared look comes over her face and she looks for me to help her get past that particular kennel run. I call her and give her a pat, reassuring her that it’s safe. What a big chicken she is. Once outside, she sits at the door and won’t budge until I go back out with her. I have to instruct her to go pee and finally, while I watch, she will do her business. She keeps coming back to my legs and leaning on me for a quick scratch and word of encouragement before she will finish, then she rushes past all the dogs who may bark at her till she gets back to her own bed. Once there, she barks non-stop until I give her a treat, then she calmly lies down and watches the performance of everyone else, quite content. She is large and bully looking, yet one of the rare, loveable chickens of the clientele.

I can’t tell you more about some of the other clients in this blog, as it will be far too long if I do. I may someday write a bit more about some of our other clients and antics that they get up to, when time permits.

So, bye for now and I hope you keep reading and enjoying our stories on www.DogandCollar.com.

Greyhound Rescue Dogs

I recently returned with my youngest daughter from nearly a month in Great Britain. We had a wonderful time, touring with family and friends across England, Scotland and Northern Ireland. What a craggy coastline Ireland has, but it’s beautiful in all its angry looking cliffs, deserted, dark castles and cool winds, coming right off the water.

Well, funnily enough, in all three countries, at one time or another I noticed a plenitude of Greyhounds. People were walking their hounds around the cities, small village roads and even on the beach in North Yorkshire. While in Scotland, I noticed a van parked on the side of the road with a logo mentioning a Greyhound rescue group. It appears that many people are now into rescuing these retiring racing dogs, providing homes and a loving family life for them. I think it’s marvellous.

Racing Greyhounds have a rough life to start with. They are trained to race from an early age and have a lot of it, if they are good at what they do. I don’t like to even think what happens to the ones who simply are not fast enough, or eager enough to race and put up a good show for the crowds. Many are put down right at the track, if they can’t hold up, or if they get too old... a ripe old age of 3 or 4 years old. So, it’s wonderful that these groups rescue these dogs once their racing career comes to a screeching halt.

For a veterinarian and adoption fee, which goes toward having the dogs vaccinated, examined for parasites or problems, getting them spayed or neutered and a bit of care, these dogs can be had for about half the price of buying a puppy of another breed from a reputable kennel. They also can live upwards of 12-13 years. So you can have a pet for a long time yet to come. One who does like an occasional, safe place to run, but for the most part is very content asleep on the sofa. They are quiet, dignified dogs, who tend to be good with children as well. If you ever plan on adopting one, check all the details with the rescue organization, as well as suitability to other small pets in the home etc.

These dogs deserve to be treated with dignity, not just tossed aside once they start to lag behind the younger set at the track. They do love to run, but if they were treated better, we wouldn’t mind so much. It’s just that they don’t have a decent enough life out there and no future once it’s over. However, I do believe that with the public outcry about these racing tracks and treatment of these dogs, that many track owners are starting to treat their dogs better and to help them find owners once their career has ended. I wish they ALL would do it, not just a few, but times are changing and I hope the Greyhound’s lives will now be better for it.

The Canine Chicken Catcher

This blog will be about an old beagle that we used to have living here with us on the farm. She wasn’t very big, she wasn’t very smart and she sure wasn’t very well behaved, but cute and very sweet natured, none the less. Her name was Boo-Boo. (Yes, we had the better half as well… a larger Labrador-mix named Yogi.) However, Boo-Boo was the real character and is the star of this little story.

Boo-Boo had an adorable little face, she was a tri-coloured variety with a cute little body that wiggled uncontrollably when anyone even so much as mentioned her name, never mind bent over to pat her or scratch her droopy, long ears. She managed to endear herself to every member of the family, as well as every stranger she met. Now, one thing about Boo-Boo, as anyone who met her could tell you, was the fact that she was the stupidest little dog on earth. However, what she lacked in brains, which was about the equivalent of a garden variety tomato, she more than made up with by her cuteness.

Boo-Boo was, surprisingly, somewhat of an idiot savant when it came to one thing…. catching chickens. Honestly, she was the best chicken catcher a farmer could ever hope for. At that time, we had a small flock, a dozen or so, of the little creatures, who provided us with lovely, fresh eggs every day and when they stopped laying we had the occasional roast chicken dinner as well. Now these hens were kept free range to wander the yards and gardens around the farmhouse, keeping it free of little bugs and other juicy tidbits they managed to scratch up along their daily picking and wandering. They were fed some grain and corn every morning and evening, along with a bit of oyster shell, to help with proper, healthy egg production. As an added thought, in case anyone did not know this, free range hens provide deep, yellow yolks and the eggs have a nice, rich taste, in comparison to the pale store bought counterparts.

Now Boo-Boo somehow knew that each night we would round up our chickens to put in the coop, saving their little feathered bodies from the night time prowlers like foxes, hawks and owls. Not to mention the occasional bold coyote. If any of you have chased and tried to corral chickens before, you will know it’s not that easy a task. They seem to be running in the right direction, then suddenly they scatter clucking and calling out to each other. They for sure must be telling each other to run in different directions, just to make it next to impossible to catch them. Silly hens… if they only knew we did this just to keep their skinny, little butts safe, they surely would cooperate without fail. But, it was a chase, scrabble and corner, each and every evening. Often times one or two would escape and there was nothing left to do but pray they’d make it through the night in one piece.

Boo-Boo must have watched our antics and finally figured out a solution to this silliness. She would chase a chicken down, no matter how far it ran, and no matter how many zigzag patterns it tried on her in avoidance, she always, without fail, managed to catch it. She would never mouth the chickens, or harm them, she would simply and efficiently sit on them, yes, SIT ON THEM, holding that clucking, feathery heap of poultry down until help arrived. We let Boo-Boo chase the errant ones, the ones that wouldn’t simply run into their fenced area outside the coop, but would take off in any direction, just to escape the confines of the coop. She was a huge help with this task and most of all, she seemed to enjoy the little chase every night. No chickens were ever left out for the night time prowlers after Boo-Boo was put on the job. Those chickens didn’t stand a chance when Boo-Boo zeroed in on them. She simply sat down, on top of their little bodies, like any obedient dog and held them in one spot until we could pick up that rogue chicken and take it to the coop. Once we took one from under her butt, she would glance around to find the next victim. What a silly dog, but you know, that beagle, the one that everyone just knew, without a shadow of a doubt, was the stupidest thing on earth, figured out this problem in no time and managed to do it all by herself.

We miss her now, but she was with our family for about 12 years, running the farm and managing those chickens like she was the General in the army. They didn’t stand a chance. All the years that we had those chickens and fresh eggs, we never found another dog who could figure out this evening routine. I’m sure many would have tried, if we had allowed it, but we knew that without a doubt, if THEY had chased those chickens, the poor things would have stood a better chance with the foxes. The other dogs over the years would have enjoyed a chicken snack if they had caught them, yes, even the very intelligent canines we often had living with us. Boo-Boo could have shown them all a thing or two about catching chickens. After all, she was, without question, the chicken queen.

Poisoning Dogs… What kind of idiot?

Well, it has come to my attention that about 2 weeks ago, in our little rural park, some idiot, for lack of a better word, had purposely left some poisoned muffins, or baked goods in the grass for our little canine friends to ingest. Their devilish scheme worked to perfection. Not only did he/she poison one dog, they managed to get four of them. They must have been ecstatic when they heard via the media, just how well their plans came to fruition. How on earth can anyone, in their right mind, purposely lay out poisoned food in the hope that an innocent pet would not only find it, but consume it, death being the ideal end to the little animal’s life? What kind of sick mind would do such a thing?

As of today, nobody has yet been found guilty of this cruel and premeditated trick. Police are no closer to locating the perpetrator than they were the day the dogs ate the baked goods. One good thing, if there is one to come out of this, is the fact that out of the four dogs who became ill, none of them died. Sure, the poor owners, in all probability, had to pay large veterinary bills due to this evil act, the dogs would have suffered while they were ill with the effects of the toxins raging through their systems, but thankfully, they didn’t die from it.

At first, the veterinarians had suspected some type of antifreeze poisoning, but further testing has excluded that toxin as a source. Now, they are looking at some type of drug as the poison causing such illness in the dogs. It can take months to test the endless drugs and toxins that can affect animals in such a manner, before any results are concluded, if at all. These little dogs were luckier than a pair in a park about 20 minutes south of where I live. Two dogs were also poisoned a week later, whether or not it was the same person/people involved or not, nobody knows but the perpetrator(s). However two dogs, a little Boston Terrier and an older Jack Russell became quite ill after picking up food in the park. Of course, they gobbled it down, but later the little Boston Terrier passed away from what is believed to be kidney/liver function failure, a direct result from the toxins in whatever it was that he ingested. The little Jack Russell, is still fighting, but is critically ill from it all. These two dogs belong to the same family, who I’m sure, have now spent many hard earned dollars to try and save their family pets.

I hope that whoever purposely did this cruel and vicious deed will be found soon and punished to the full extent of the law. They obviously are ill and in much need of psychiatric help. I don’t know what could be gained from such an act, but I truly hope that nothing like this happens again. It did happen a year ago in Toronto at a major dog park, where once again the perpetrator was not found. These people really need to re-think their mission in life. They not only hurt the actual innocent dogs - who rely on us humans for food, water and care - but they hurt the families who love and cherish these pets. One thing could have been worse though… these parks also are a playground for children. Any young child, who was playing and running around in the park, even under the watchful eyes of a caregiver, could have easily picked up a poisoned baked item and stuffed a quick bite into their mouth before the parent or babysitter could have stopped them. Where was the common sense of these people? Anyone who would do such a thing should be taught a very important lesson in life and I hope they are found and given jail time for their actions.

Keep your pets close and be careful when you allow them to run off leash - just a warning from someone who has seen consequences up close. That’s my ranting for yet another day.

Dog Beach Ban in Toronto

I read in the newspaper recently that the City of Toronto is talking of closing down some of the beach areas to dogs. The new by-law will totally forbid any dog to walk on these newly closed beach fronts of Lake Ontario, no matter whether it is running free, or on leash. There still are a few remaining areas around the city where dogs can run in a leash-free zone, but the beach areas have been extremely popular with dog owners for years and years. Now threatened with closures, they will be leaving many dog owners stranded for a place to safely and happily exercise their dogs. These people will now have to drive around the city in search of one of the dwindling areas where their pets can run and stretch their "city" legs for much needed exercise.


The city says that they are closing these beach areas to supposedly upgrade the beaches for swimming. Well, I don't know about anyone else, but I find Lake Ontario akin to swimming in the Arctic Ocean at the best of times. However, on any given warm, summer day in Toronto, you can still find hardy people in that cold water, splashing happily around despite the frolicking dogs who also enjoy the sandy area and splashing waves that hit the shore. The dogs, mostly oblivious to the human paddlers, run about with their hidden treasures of floating sticks and bits of "fun to fetch" debris that dogs love to tote around in their mouths. The two groups have, for decades, lived in harmony on these beaches and I don't find the need for the city's proposed ban to take place.


I don't know if upgrading the areas for swimming is the only real reason behind this, but I do have a suspicion. For every hundred dog owners who run their pets on the beach, there are one or two who DO NOT PICK UP behind their dogs. Usually that ruins things for everyone else. It may not be that alone, but it sure is a big factor in decisions like this.


Today I noticed in the paper, a group of dog owners who are out there trying to make a point. They had their three pooches walking on leash, while doing a cleanup of Kew Beach. They apparently held a "clean up" event, organized by a group of concerned dog owners, who want to prove that they are responsible pet owners and do indeed clean up after their beloved dogs. I'm sure that the majority of owners are considerate and tidy. But, as the old saying goes... "one bad apple can spoil the whole bunch". There is always one in every crowd. That one person who watches their dog leave his bundle and then walks away. Well, that is precisely the real cause of things like this, which make it hard for the honest, clean living individual to enjoy the freedom of these sandy, boardwalk areas. So, for those of you who are trying to set a good example, my thumbs go up to you. For that one or two of you who leave your dog's droppings on the walk for somebody to step in...shame on you! Now you have to find a new area to run your dogs and have forced the honest people to suffer along with you. When you do find that new spot to run your dog, please, for the sake of everyone... take a doggy bag!

Dog Microchipping Works

Well, I am happy to write this particular blog. There is a story to tell here, that has a very happy ending. Being a breeder for many years of both Jack Russell Terriers and Toy Manchester Terriers has been very rewarding, albeit expensive at times, but rewarding none the less. Before our puppies leave our home at 8 weeks of age, we have them microchipped for identification purposes, as per the Canadian Kennel Club requirements. Anyway, having microchipped our Toy Manchester Terriers has paid off for me, as a breeder, twice now.

I was upset this week, as a very responsible TMT owner of one of my little male puppies named Audi, (now 3 years old) called me. She was very distraught as she was having flooring work done in her home and at some time during the commotion, despite being secluded in an area deemed safe, the dog managed to escape their house and yard and run amok throughout the neighbourhood. Needless to say, he managed to disappear before being caught and by nightfall, was nowhere to be found.

After contacting me, the breeder, this lady posted flyers around the neighbourhood with both a description and photo of the dog. She checked all the shelters, pet stores and vets in her immediate area and beyond. She also contacted her immediate neighbours and placed advertisements just about everywhere over the next couple of days. She made sure that her records for the microchip were all up to date, with correct address, etc, in case he happened to be scanned for a chip at a shelter or veterinarian.

A few days had passed and I got a phone call today which made me very happy. Her dog had been found. Apparently an unidentified person had taken him to a shelter, out of her city area, but he was actually picked up in his own neighbourhood. The shelter DID scan the terrier for a chip and found a number. They contacted the correct party, who has records of the chip numbers and his number was matched to the owner. After getting the call, she immediately rushed to the shelter and retrieved her beloved dog. She was ecstatic over his return, as was I to hear that he had been reunited with his loving family. At least I know that the microchip system worked.

There was one other Toy Manchester Terrier which I had sold to a couple, who got lost a few years back at the U.S. / Canada border and was found by a trucker heading to Texas. He managed to step on the leash, after a short chase across a parking lot. After a week's cross country "free ride" he was brought back and taken to a vet for chip scanning. The vet found his chip, contacted the records department, who in turn contacted his frantic owners, who were immensely relieved to have him returned safely.

I am now confident in the extra expense and time involved to get these dogs microchipped, as it has proven to work more than once in my own personal experiences, so I thought I would share this bit of information with you. So, if you have a dog, maybe it would pay you to have him microchipped, or if he already is chipped, then please check that all your contact records are up to date. You never know when it can come in handy.

2009 Westminster Dog Show

I was quite interested in the Westminster dog show recently and more than surprised to find that a ten year old dog… yes, a TEN YEAR old dog actually took the “Best In Show” award. I have traipsed around the show ring over the years with my Toy Manchester Terriers and did show a nice guy in the “Veteran’s Class”, which means that the dogs entered in that particular class must be seven years old or more. Now, it’s not very often that we see these grand old Champions come up through the ranks and actually take first place, never mind the much more coveted prize of “Best In Show”. The younger, more limber, bouncy individuals usually walk away with that rosette and highly prized trophy, not to mention the notoriety and glamour that comes along with such a huge win.

To win at any show is a major accomplishment, but to do so at such a prestigious show as the Westminster is the coup de grace. Good for him, I say. A huge congratulations not only to the dog, who does not know what he has done, I’m sure, but congratulations to the owner and handler of such a beautiful animal. Not only was the dog an elderly gentlemen, but he is a breed that is very little known… a Sussex Spaniel. I watched on the television, that sleek, chocolate brown dog strutting with pride around the ring, with his handler in tow at the opposite end of the leash. The soft, wavy hair flowing from his ears and legs caused my thoughts to stray to memories of my own days in the ring and how I would have felt had that been my dog. One’s heart can’t help but swell with pride, watching such a gracious little dog, accomplish such a huge feat.

My show days are now behind me, but watching that senior fellow floating around that ring made me want to rush out and get the dogs again, ready to do battle with the other canine contestants and handlers in yet another dog show. If I were to do that for the next ten years, I would never have the experience of enjoying a show like the Westminster…but it sure would be fun trying.